


Moonlight Blossom

by theglaringdream



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, BL, Drama, Fantasy, M/M, On Hiatus, R-18, Romance, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Yaoi, non con, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglaringdream/pseuds/theglaringdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ja'far, who grew up as an assassin, fatefully encounters the famed yakuza boss Sinbad. Little does he know that there is more to the man than his name, compelling face, flashy smile, and womanizing antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blossom 01

**Author's Note:**

> While writing Chapter One for Moonlight Paradox, I was also imagining a BL fanfic in modern AU with a yakuza theme. I thought a light story would be nice but I guess this is not really a light hearted one. Orz. 
> 
>  
> 
> This fanfic is also a work in progress and yet another outlet of my Sinja/Enja feels. 
> 
>  
> 
> To you who is reading this, thank you!

  
  
  
Drops of fresh blood stained the floor, illuminated by moonlight from the window, its smell faintly lingering in the entire room. That redness was something Ja'far had unwillingly been used to but he disliked the idea that it was his own which kept on dripping and dirtying his quarters.  
  
  
He irritably clicked his tongue when he raised his sleeve and found a long slit on the inside of his left arm. His target that evening managed to shove a knife at him before he was able to make her unconscious. If only his mission did not require delivering the subject completely unharmed, he would have surely accomplished the job fast and  unscathed.  
  
  
"How troublesome."  
  
  
As he took off his smudged clothes and entered the bathroom, he questioned himself why he accepted the task of retrieving a bothersome runaway heiress when he was an assassin to begin with. He reckoned that his unit was paid triple for an unfitting job but assigning Mahad or Vittel would have been the hassle free choice.  
  
  
Ja'far turned the knob then cold water showered his thin pale body. His blank dark gray eyes stared down the blood mixing with the water as it seeped down the floor sink. His wound twitched with the sudden wetness, the skin around it growing numb.  
  
  
Tilting his head up as he ran his fingers through his white hair, he closed his eyes, savored the coldness from head to toe and listened to the splatter. Whenever he completed an assignment, he spent his time thoroughly cleaning up. It was not like his actions could be washed away with just soap and water but bathing allowed his nerves to relax.  
  
  
After spending more than an hour inside, Ja'far walked out of the bathroom in a white shirt and denim pants while rubbing a towel on his head.  
  
  
"Who told you to just come in?" he said.  
  
  
"So cold! You knew I was waiting and you just took your sweet time."  
  
  
Comfortably cross sitting on his small bed was a younger guy with long black hair in segmented braid. His thin red eyes and twisted lips were menacing.  
  
  
"What do you want?" impassively asked Ja'far as he took out a canned coffee from his small fridge.  
  
  
"I missed you so I thought I'd come play."  
  
  
The pale man sensed him enter his pad right after he started showering. It was not like it had not happened before so he just let it pass but for some odd reason, having him around made him uneasy. Despite their connection, his instincts told him to be wary of him.  
  
  
"So who's the target this time?" Ja'far inquired.  
  
  
"Won't you offer me some juice first?"  
  
  
Ja'far drank his coffee and blankly stared at him while standing by the wall.  
  
  
"You're no fun at all. So uncute."  
  
  
"Judar," the pale man demanded.  
  
  
"Alright, alright," pouted his guest, then he grinned viciously. "I'm sure you know the Seven Seas Alliance."  
  
  
"Of course. They're common knowledge."  
  
  
No one in the underworld could not have known the said confederation for uniting many influential and mixed blooded yakuza families all over the country.  
  
  
"Have you worked for any of their members before?" inquired Judar.  
  
  
"No. I haven't encountered anyone from their alliance yet."  
  
  
"Good thing I've brought this then. Here's your target."  
  
  
Judar stood up and passed a photo with small notes at the back to Ja'far.  
  
  
"Do you think you can do it? That guy's pretty strong~"  
  
  
"Heh. He looks foolish to me. I'll finish him no matter who he is."  
  
  
"That seals the deal then," Judar stated with curved lips. "Give me a call when you're done. I'll send the funds tomorrow."  
  
  
"So it's true," the pale man said. "That their alliance and Kou are in a rift."  
  
  
"Hmmm~ I'm not sure~"  
  
  
"Is this a request from your group?"  
  
  
"I wonder about that~"  
  
  
"What?" Ja'far furrowed his eyebrows as he snapped.  
  
  
"Don't worry~" sneered Judar while waving his hand. "This job's for real. I'll let them know about it when you've already succeeded."  
  
  
"You'll surely get it from me if you're just fooling around."  
  
  
"Seriously, you should just join Kou. That way, there'd be two nagging freckles in our organization."  
  
  
Dark gray eyes sharply peered at Judar, wires glinting on one arm. There was no use trying to properly deal with him as a whimsical client. He might as well be his target next time.  
  
  
"Okay, okay, I'll go take my leave now," said Judar. "Looks like you have some cleaning to do anyway."  
  
  
As he motioned to leave, he threw another taunting glance at Ja'far.  
  
  
"Make sure you take good care of that wound. You won't fail me because of that, will you?"  
  
  
"Do you want to test me now?" asked the pale man with threatening eyes as he bared one dart blade with his other hand.  
  
  
The corner of Judar's lips raised higher at the sight and revealed a toothy vile grin.  
  
  
"No, thanks," he said before leaving.  
  
  
Upon closing the door, he kept on wearing his smile while walking out the rundown apartment complex.  
  
  
"You're my gift to Sinbad," Judar murmured to himself. "It'd be boring if I ended up killing you."  
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
A sudden splash on his face stunned Sharrkan. His nostrils inhaled the strong smell of wine Yamuraiha just threw at him. Seeing her satisfied smirk caused his wet eyebrow to twitch.  
  
  
"You idiot woman!" he gritted his teeth and grabbed the beer mug on the table. "I'll let you have it too!"  
  
  
With a mischievous smile, Pisti decided to join the fray and spilled alcohol on Sharrkan's kimono from behind. Spartos could only watch the three running around and throwing liquor here and there.  
  
  
"As lively as always," Hinahoho commented while drinking on their low table at the engawa overlooking the pond and garden.  
  
  
"Uhm, shouldn't we stop them?" worried Alibaba. "My master's all wet and drunk."  
  
  
"I doubt we can," Drakon said while watching the rowdy bunch. "They're always like this when they get drunk."  
  
  
"And so is he," Masrur stated while munching on several barbeque sticks in hand.  
  
  
They turned their gaze to their right. Laughing with pink cheeks and alcohol in hand was their alliance's supreme boss. He had young women sitting on his either lap and hugging him from behind.  
  
  
"The head boss is amazing," blankly said Morgianna. "He can bear all their weight."  
  
  
"That's not the point here!" Alibaba cut in then stiffened. "But yeah... He's really amazing... with women."  
  
  
Well aware of the boy's dilemma, Hinahoho laughed and ruffled the blond's hair.  
  
  
"You'll be like him someday," he said. "I heard you've already been frequenting one of our clubs."  
  
  
"You've grown up Alibaba!" Drakon commented.  
  
  
With cheeks flushing red, the blond rubbed the back of his head as he chuckled. He then gripped his glass upon remembering one of the hostesses he had met. The mere thought of her made goosebumps crawl all over him.  
  
  
"Are you all getting enough wine?"  
  
  
"Yes, Boss!"  
  
  
Lightly staggering, Sinbad left his women and joined his subordinates who were all cross sitting around their long table. A maid poured a generous fill to his glass which he downed easily.  
  
  
"Oh, they're at it again," he said when he saw the drunk lot in the garden. "So energetic. It's really nice being young."  
  
  
"Why, you're still young yourself Sinbad," Hinahoho said while patting his back.  
  
  
"Y-yes! That's right!"  
  
  
Their drunk boss giggled sheepishly. Being told that he was young always flattered him.  
  
  
"That said, isn't it about time you get married?" Drakon suggested.  
  
  
"Eh?"  
  
  
"Right, right. It's nice to have children, you know," seconded his subordinate from the Imuchakk clan.  
  
  
"That reminds me, didn't you go to an arranged marriage meeting the other day?" Alibaba inquired.  
  
  
"Oh that, I turned it down," said Sinbad.  
  
  
"But why? Is the girl not your type?"   
  
  
"She's cute but I really don't feel like marrying anyone right now."  
  
  
"That's a waste," Drakon said. "A lot of women are after you. And as the supreme leader of the alliance, you'll eventually want a wife to support you."  
  
  
"I have you guys. We're already a big family that support one another."  
  
  
"How about your heir?" Morgiana asked. "If there is no big sister..."  
  
  
"It's okay Morgiana," said Masrur as he handed her a grilled fish. "I'm sure the Boss will have some of them soon with his various flings. Or he may have had them already."  
  
  
"Huh..." mused the red haired girl with a rigid face.  
  
  
Their boss chuckled. He always did whenever the subject of his marriage was brought up. It was not that he disliked women, in fact, he liked all types of them and he always indulged in short lived encounters. But choosing someone he could commit to and live with for a lifetime was a serious responsibility he would like to properly think about.  
  
  
"Could it be that you're worried because you're a yakuza boss?" asked Hinahoho.  
  
  
"Well, there's that. My wife might end up being anxious all the time."  
  
  
"It's fine," Drakon said. "As your  generals, we'll have everyone protect the two of you."  
  
  
"I appreciate that."  
  
  
The boss gulped another full glass of alcohol and wiped his mouth.  
  
  
"If it's a matter of understanding, I'm sure you can find someone who will accept your background," Hinahoho assured him.  
  
  
With a furrowing wrinkle between his eyebrows, Sinbad flashed a knowing smile.  
  
  
"Even if I'm not from a yakuza, I doubt it would be safe for any woman to be my wife. If there's something for her to fear, then that would be me myself."  
  
  
Everyone in the table fell silent. Without moving their hands to drink, they only peered at their head boss who wore a contrite expression.  
  
  
"It's okay, Boss!"  
  
  
Sharrkan's sudden voice prompted them to look at him. He wore a wide grin as he sat beside Sinbad, his companions following suit.  
  
  
"It's not too late," Spartos stated.  
  
  
"That's right. We'll find a way," said Yamuraiha.  
  
  
"Then you can marry all you want!" Pisti cheered.  
  
  
The corners of their boss's lips raised and the light on his golden eyes softened. One by one, he looked at his trusted followers and nodded at them.  
  
  
"For all this time you've stayed with me, thank you," he told them. "I'll continue counting on you."  
  
  
Sharing a determined expression on their faces, the alliance's generals clasped their hands and bowed at the same time as they expressed their commitment.  
  
  
"Anything for you and the Seven Seas."  
  
  
With a solid bond uniting them, they spent the rest of the moonlit evening drinking to their heart's content, unaware of the uninvited presence who had been secretly watching them.  
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
"What a stupid bunch."  
  
  
Ja'far hissed the words to himself while observing the younger generals from a gap in the sliding doors. All spread out on the floor, they slept soundly atop the mess they just made. He knew that they were important officials of the yakuza clans allied with the Seven Seas. If not for this information, he would not even think of them that way based on their childish drunk behavior.  
  
  
He sneaked to other rooms to check on the generals who were drinking earlier with Sinbad and once sure that they too were unconscious, he proceeded to search for the master room.  
  
  
Infiltrating syndicate headquarters had always been a part of his assassination missions but he noted that Sindria, the Seven Seas's main house, was the biggest and grandest he had been so far. It sported the same traditional and oriental structure though it housed exotic and foreign decors. He reckoned the master of the estate had diverse tastes.  
  
  
With soundless footsteps, Ja'far who blended with the darkness reached a large room and stealthily let himself inside after three women had left from it. Baring one of his twin dart blades in his right hand, he tiptoed towards each sliding door, crossing each partition.  
  
  
Alas he had found his target, sleeping half naked on his huge canopied bed. For a few minutes, he studied the man's unguarded appearance. He did not expect that he was already a supreme boss at his supposed age.  
  
  
With unbound long purple hair and a flushed smooth skin on his face, Sinbad breathed softly, completely looking defenseless. His exposed chest and abdomen appeared to be well toned and his shoulders were broad.  
  
  
Ja'far squinted his eyes for a minute, then shook his head and smirked. Like his previous assignments, he was sure that time too would be a quick job, given that his target is drunk and unconscious. So much for being the head boss of a formidable group.  
  
  
Since Sinbad laid in the middle of the wide bed, the pale man had to step back and prepare to strike. After a quick inhale, he set himself and swiftly jumped at him. In just a split second, he darted a paralyzing needle, aimed for his chest and deeply plunged one sharp dagger, blood splattering his own cloth covered face.  
  
  
He heard a painful yelp from Sinbad so to make sure he was finished quickly, Ja'far thrusted his other dagger with all his might. While exhaling, he raised his head and looked at him.  
  
  
Without any movement or noise, Sinbad remained lying, eyes completely shut and blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. Ja'far unconsciously narrowed his own gray eyes and furrowed his brows as he stared down his subject's face.  
  
  
"That's what you get for being an idiot."  
  
  
As always, the job was done. There was no use lingering any longer so the assassin pulled out his weapons from the man, staining his hands with blood. He turned away, motioning to get out of the bed, but he was instantly held back.  
  
  
Ja'far blinked twice.  
  
  
As he turned around, he suddenly found a hand grasping his left arm tightly. He tilted his head and his dark gray eyes dramatically widened. Sitting up and staring straight at him with a pair of glowing golden eyes and twisted lips was the very target he just killed.  
  
  
He just pierced his heart. Twice even. How could he still be--  
  
  
"You lack manners," grunted Sinbad with a clear smile as he clutched his bleeding chest. "Don't you know how to greet someone when you visit his house?"  
  
  
The boss could still speak. The assassin froze at the unbelievable feat, feeling his own racing heartbeats.  
  
  
He pulled his arm away but the wounded boss only gripped it much tighter, crushinh the hidden wound on it. Ja'far kicked him hard in the stomach to break free but his victim did not even budge. Instead Sinbad abruptly sat up, turned him, and heavily pinned his thin body down the bed, knocked his right arm, throwing one blade down the floor.  
  
  
"You bastard! How are you still alive--"  
  
  
With sharp burning eyes, Sinbad twisted the pale man's right arm and brusquely pulled the cloth wrap out of his face.  
  
  
"Damn you!"  
  
  
"Who sent you?" hissed the mad boss, the blood from his chest dripping down Ja'far's body.  
  
  
"Like I'll tell you, stupid!"  
  
  
Completely straddled, the pale man clutched the remaining dart blade in his left hand, raised it, and struck Sinbad on the arm. He had hoped that attack would let him get away but it did not even daze Sinbad.  
  
  
"What the hell are you?!" Ja'far yelled at him.  
  
  
With deeply furrowing eyebrows, the boss stared him down then began sniffing.  
  
  
"I knew it," he spat.  
  
  
Sparing no second, he raised Ja'far's left arm, roughly ripped the sleeve and wire around it and tossed the remaining dart blade. Upon seeing the long cut on the pale skin, his body stiffened, then he gritted his teeth as he pressed the wound, juicing out fresh blood.  
  
  
Ja'far grunted and twisted in pain.  
  
  
"Why you--! Gaa!"  
  
  
Hearing his own loud pounding hearbeats, Sinbad's breath grew heavier and faster as he squeezed the reopened wound. He felt the hot rush of blood in every vein of his body, throat parched, and eyes glistening sharply. Looking at the writhing assassin under him irritated his core.  
  
  
"You monster! Let go of me!" demanded Ja'far as he twisted his body.  
  
  
To his chagrin, the man he just called a monster turned out to be a real beast.  Soon, his upper clothes were ripped out and he was yanked towards Sinbad's wet bloody chest. Ja'far did not even have a second to understand what was really happening. All he knew was that his target acted like a wild animal. And before he could slide away from him, his body was locked inside the man's arms, white hair roughly pulled and head held in place. Then he felt an electrifying sting at base of his neck.  
  
  
"N-no way-- Urg-- Aaaa--- aaa!"  
  
  
With sharp fangs sinking deep into his flesh, the assassin struggled and yelped, his hands helplessly holding on to the beastly boss. His eyes shut in pain and he tried to pound his fists against Sinbad but it was no use.  
  
  
Further adding to his confusion, the pale man heard a swallow from his target's throat, causing chills to run down his spine. He did not know what to think about anymore.  
  
  
After a long suck from his prey, Sinbad broke away and gazed at him as if he was in a trance. Ja'far stared back with half open eyes, his inner freckled cheeks deeply flushed, lips parted, white hair in a wild mess, and pale skin covered in mixed blood and sweat.  
  
  
"Damn you Sinbad..." Ja'far huffed. "Just what are you..."  
  
  
The sight only intensified the irritation that the boss felt, prompting him to carelessly push down the pale man down the bed again. As he pressed over him, he seized his lips and slipped his tongue, completely exploring the other's mouth.  
  
  
"Nnn--!"  
  
  
Ja'far felt like his breath and strength were quickly being stolen from him. He turned his head away but Sinbad chased his lips as if he was trying to devour him.  
  
  
No, he was already devouring him. Sinbad broke from the kiss, with a string of saliva connecting them, then buried his face on the other side of his neck. He bit the flesh and sucked blood out of him, the succeeding gulps resonating in the entire room.  
  
  
"Guu-- Uguu-- Argh!"  
  
  
Then Sinbad released his fangs and reached down his chest where he sunk them next and continued to drink from there. Each time he bit on a different part, Ja'far jolted, squirmed, and huffed, tears brimming his shut eyes. He asked himself how everything turned out that way.  
  
  
Tilting his head to his right, he stared up the open window and saw the full moon illuminating the black sky. The smell of fresh blood mixing with Sinbad's scent lingered in the cold air.  
  
  
Soon, Ja'far's vision swirled and blurred into complete darkness.  
  


 

 

 


	2. Blossom 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up. If you are sensitive to the mention of animals being eaten, please skip this chapter.  
> Disclaimer: I love animals.

  
  
  
  
He had always been weak against nightmares. Whenever Ja'far had them, he would wake up screaming and running out of breath, throat dry and body swimming in cold sweat. It always left him a distasteful feeling throughout the day.  
  
  
His bad dreams usually touched on his dark past but on that particular evening, he dreamt of an incredibly bizarre event. Never once did he imagine failing an assassination or entertain the idea that his target could turn into a monster and eat and kill him instead. He reckoned that the sheer eccentricity of that nightmare was the reason he did not wake up from it like usual.  
  
  
Ja'far opened his heavy eyelids, blinking several times before he could keep his eyes ajar. Unable to easily move his limbs, his entire body felt like a heavy rock. It was as if he had lost all his energy in his sleep.  
  
  
"I was worried you'd never wake up anymore."  
  
  
Hearing the voice had his shoulders flinch for a bit, then his dark gray eyes widened at the sight of the person who threw the words at him.  
  
  
"Good morning," greeted Sinbad.  
  
  
With the corners of his lips raised, he looked at Ja'far with an unreadable expression. He was wearing a clean white kimono and his long purple hair was neatly bound. His golden eyes appeared soft compared to what they looked like in the pale man's dream.  
  
  
Was it just a dream? Ja'far sat up quickly but he grunted the ache he felt as he did. And soon he sensed the light itching pain all over his skin. His lips trembled upon seeing several reddish bite marks on his chest, abdomen, and arms though the one that stung the most were the ones by his neck.  
  
  
It was not a nightmare.  
  
  
Ja'far tried to stand but he could not.  
  
  
"That won't do," said Sinbad with a smile.  
  
  
Feeling the strain of ropes on his wrists each tied to the bed posts, the pale man clenched his teeth and sharpened his gaze at the yakuza boss. He became more anxious upon noticing a tall red haired guy standing behind his target.  
  
  
"Damn!" he expressed while twisting his wrists.  
  
  
"You see, I can't let you go just like that. Who knows when you'll come back to kill me," said Sinbad.  
  
  
"Huuuh?!" Ja'far reacted in irritation. "You idiot! You're the one who almost killed me!"  
  
  
"A-- I-I guess that's true..."  
  
  
"What in the world are you? Don't tell me you're a vampire!"  
  
  
The edge of the boss's eyebrows twitched. He then rubbed the back of his head as he explained.  
  
  
"No, no, I don't think I'm a vampire. Calling me that will make me old. I'm just 29 you know? Let's just say I'm a man eating beast. Or an oni."  
  
  
"Doesn't that make you similar to a vampire?" asked Masrur with his deadpan expression.  
  
  
"Really?" wondered Sinbad. "No way. They're ancient and pale and they sleep in coffins. I'm nothing like that at all."  
  
  
It left the pale man slack-jawed. He knew the yakuza boss was messing with him. He had to be. None of the things that happened the past evening made any sense.  
  
  
"Untie me you-- you zombie!" he spat.  
  
  
"Hey, I'm not that either. I'm way neater. And my heart's still beating."  
  
  
The boss parted his robes and revealed a completely healed chest. To add on Ja'far's utter confusion, no trace of stab or scar could be seen from the tan skin when he was sure that was the spot he pierced his daggers through twice.  
  
  
"I don't care what you are anymore. This is sick! I'm getting out of here."  
  
  
With his blank eyes, Masrur whispered at Sinbad then glanced at their whiny captive.  
  
  
"I almost forgot. I have some questions for you, little assassin," said the boss.  
  
  
With pursed lips, Ja'far maintained his hostile look at him.  
  
  
"First, what's your name?"  
  
  
"..."  
  
  
"Who ordered you to infiltrate Sindria?"  
  
  
"..."  
  
  
"Which organization do you belong to?"  
  
  
"..."  
  
  
The supreme boss's eyes narrowed as he flashed a knowing smile.  
  
  
"I hope you didn't forget that you're dealing with the Seven Seas," he stated. "Messing with us has a high price."  
  
  
"Just kill me," hissed the assassin. "Do you think I enjoy talking to a monster like you?"  
  
  
"Looks like we came across a stubborn foul mouthed one."  
  
  
Sinbad furrowed his eyebrows and stared down the defiant pale man, carefully examining his apperance. He supposed the man was three to four years younger than him but his thin built was like that of a teen. His eyes squinted at the conspicuous marks he had spread all over his body.  
  
  
With a sigh, he turned around and pat Masrur on the shoulder.  
  
  
"Feed him then have him sleep. Make sure he's properly tied so he doesn't escape."  
  
  
"As you wish," Masrur answered.  
  
  
"I'm sure you're still dizzy so I'll deal with you later."  
  
  
With another short glance, Sinbad left his room, biting his lower lip as he walked in the dark hallway.  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Chief!"  
  
  
Deeply bowing and clad in black suits, the lined men welcomed their supreme boss in unison. Sinbad returned the greeting cheerfully and proceeded to the board room, his six generals following behind him as they were also greeted.  
  
  
Every weekday mornings, he and his most trusted officials held a formal meeting in their main company's office. Some of them represented the yakuza clans in their alliance while the others were directly under his command.  
  
  
Their daily agenda always started with the financial reports from the several casinos, clubs, brothels, restaurants, and lending institutions they owned. Once every urgent matter with these establishments were settled, they discussed the ongoing projects of the construction company and the fishing business.  
  
  
"I don't see Masrur," remarked Sharrkan while adjusting his golden tie. "Is he late again?"  
  
  
"He was assigned to watch over that guy," Spartos answered.  
  
  
"Is that so? How troublesome."  
  
  
"Uhm, Boss?" Yamuraiha said as she passed some papers to Sinbad. "This came in today."  
  
  
"Is this the result of the bidding last week?"   
  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
  
Sinbad read the document and it took only a minute for the muscles on his face to stiffen. He looked at Yamuraiha and Pisti who were sitting beside him.  
  
  
"Kou scored this deal?" he inquired. "I thought we were most favored for this."  
  
  
"We thought so as well. All of our proposals were accepted," Pisti replied. "But some organizers suddenly changed their minds and gave the main project to Kou instead. We still bagged the resort deal but not the housing."  
  
  
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this. Not only in official contracts but they are also gaining more underworld deals in major districts recently," said Yamuraiha.  
  
  
"Yeah," agreed the boss while steepling his fingers. "They've always been a formidable clan with successful legal ventures to begin with."  
  
  
"Have you already met their family head?" asked Sharrkan.  
  
  
"I did but he just passed away this year and it appears that his second wife has taken over," Sinbad said.  
  
  
"Oh, a big sister huh..." mused Pisti. "She must be really scary."  
  
  
"I think the one we should be wary of  is the head's son," said Spartos. "He's the one who took over Alibaba's group."  
  
  
"There are rumours going around that he plans to invade other turfs," added Hinahoho. "Though other clans also do the same thing a lot lately."  
  
  
"We should be extra careful. With the recent riots, we might get much more assassins visiting us like last night," Drakon said.  
  
  
"Indeed... But that guy from last night... he's quite impressive though," mused Sinbad while gazing at the city view from the glass wall. "I wonder which group he's affiliated with. He's probably one of their assets."  
  
  
Everyone blinked and darted troubled stares at the boss. It was true that the assassin was specially skilled for being able to enter the main residence and knock them out or their several men but he was still an enemy.  
  
  
Remembering the past evening brought surreal waves into the boss'ss stomach. The ruffled white hair, half lidded gray eyes, flushed freckled cheeks, parted huffing lips, and bloodstained skin - the image kept on occupying his mind.  
  
  
He swallowed as he recalled the taste of that fresh blood in his tongue, his golden eyes in a trance and lips lightly wavering.  
  
  
"Boss!"  
  
  
Sinbad lightly twitched back to his senses and met his subordinates' worried looks.  
  
  
"Are you alright?" inquired Spartos. "You looked lost there for a minute."  
  
  
"I'm fine. Don't mind me," assured the boss with his usually laidback smile.  
  
  
"Are you sure you don't need a beast or something at this time?" Pisti asked. "I can get you one."  
  
  
The supreme boss laughed sheepishly. Being the creature that he already was, he reminded himself not to show his oddness in front of his followers. Worrying them about himself was the least he wanted.  
  
  
"Seriously, there's no need for one. I had my fill last night. Not to mention, it wasn't even from an animal."  
  
  
"I didn't expect that you would end up revealing that side of you to him though," Drakon commented.  
  
  
"It was really careless of me," regretted the boss. "That's why I think we should keep him for now. We can't let this secret out after all."  
  
  
Assuring his generals with a small smile, he stood up and stepped closer to the glass wall with hands in either pocket of his slacks. Despite what he had said, he could actually feel it - the growing tension in his nerves and the itching thirst in his throat. Trying to will away the sensation, Sinbad casted his golden eyes down and blankly observed the busy streets below them.  
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
Nothing could beat reality. That evening, Ren Kougyoku was able to prove to herself that everything she had imagined fell short with the actual thing. If anything, it was so much better.  
  
  
"Is there something wrong?"  
  
  
"N-nothing! None at all. I-I'm okay!"  
  
  
Her words betrayed what she felt deep inside. There was no way she could be alright if her heart was bursting inside her chest. And everything was simply because of the older man beaming right in front of her - her first love.  
  
  
"Did you like the food?" she asked while fidgeting her hands underneath the table.  
  
  
"Definitely," suavely answered Sinbad. "As expected of a beautiful lady like you, your tastes are exquisite."  
  
  
"Really? I'm glad! This is actually my favorite restaurant."  
  
  
"Is that so? I feel honored."  
  
  
Sporting his flashy smile on her date, the yakuza boss lightly clutched on his thigh under the table. He felt so distressed, trying to hold on to his composure the entire day. And despite the sumptuous meal he had just finished, his stomach did not feel full at all, the wine not even quenching his thirst.  
  
  
Sinbad had thought that he would head home immediately after his meetings to cool down but an unexpected phone call led him to a fancy dinner instead. Declining the invitation of the young lady in front of him was an unfavorable option so the least he could do was eat with her and immediately excuse himself after a short talk.  
  
  
"You're pretty bold Lady Kougyoku," he said.   
  
  
"Eh?"  
  
  
"I didn't expect the young daughter of the Kou clan would come and see me tonight. I am very pleased but I hope your brothers won't hate me for this."  
  
  
"I think it's not a problem even if you're from the Seven Seas. And we're like other ordinary people in here. I mean, I just wanted to thank you for always being nice to me. So..."  
  
  
"That's very kind of you. Next time, I'll bring you to one of our famous restaurants."  
  
  
"I'm looking forward to it Sir Sinbad!"  
  
  
Her heart beat fast. If only that night never ended. Kougyoku was sure that just staring at the dashing man before her was enough to make her feet fly.  
  
  
With a quick glance at the window behind him, Sinbad stood up and grinned at the clan daughter.  
  
  
"It's getting late. I really don't want to be the reason for interrupting your beauty rest."  
  
  
"Ah, y-yeah," Kougyoku smiled sheepishly.  
  
  
"I'll see you off to the--"  
  
  
"Sir Sinbad!"  
  
  
Hands smacking down the table, Kougyoku abruptly stood up with extremely flushed cheeks and wrinkled eyebrows.  
  
  
"Yes?" reacted the yakuza boss, quite startled with her.  
  
  
"I like you!"  
  
  
"Eh?"  
  
  
"I've always admired you. I really really do. In fact..."  
  
  
It was getting worse as time passed. Sinbad could hardly breathe. He clenched his fists on his sides, trying to subdue his irritation. The voice he was hearing sounded distant as he squinted his eyes.   
  
  
"So won't you try..." the clan daughter offered with bashful eyes. "Can you try... going out... with me?"  
  
  
With a hand on the side of his throbbing temple, the boss raised his head at her and managed an apologetic gaze.  
  
  
"I'm sorry... I don't think I can," he answered shortly.  
  
  
Kougyoku's eyes widened as her shoulders slumped.  
  
  
"W-why?" she asked.  
  
  
Losing control in public, especially in front of the Kou lady, was the most dangerous thing that Sinbad could not risk to happen so he decided to set aside the sudden confession even when he saw the utter disappointment on her face.  
  
  
"I think we should talk some other time about this. Please excuse my manners but we should get going," said the yakuza boss as he glanced at Spartos who was waiting by their car. "I really appreciate this dinner. I'll call you--"  
  
  
"If you're worried about my brothers, I can explain them everything--"  
  
  
"It's not that."  
  
  
"Then what is it? Am I not good enough?" Kougyoku inquired.  
  
  
"..."  
  
  
Clad in black suit with a green tie, Spartos walked in and approached them. He bowed at the clan daughter and gave her a paper bag tied in pink ribbon.  
  
  
"I'm afraid I don't have enough time today. Please forgive me and wait for my call. We really have to go now," ruefully said Sinbad.  
  
  
After a short bow, he and Spartos turned away and walked out of the establishment, leaving Kougyoku dazed with a small gift in hand and an aching heart in her chest.  
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
"I'm amazed that you managed to keep your cool the whole time you were there."  
  
  
Glancing from time to time on the rear-view mirror which relfected his boss, Spartos drove as fast as he could, his sweaty hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.  
  
  
"Really, I was barely hanging on. I almost had a fit there. I can't believe I'm going through this," grunted Sinbad.  
  
  
Panting in the bloodstained backseat, he kept on clutching his head as he gritted his teeth or rather his growing fangs. He hated to admit it but he was badly starving for blood and that night was the worst he had ever yearned for it.  
  
  
"Boss, you're perfectly in control of it before," Spartos remarked. "And feeding off an animal once a week was enough. What happened?"  
  
  
"I don't know either. This is the first time I've ever felt so irritated. That foxy Yunan! What has he turned me into?"  
  
  
"Should I tell the guys at home to prepare more? The way you look right now, I doubt those two beasts were enough. I'm sure Pisti could get you a bigger one."  
  
  
"Ugh really, I feel terribly bad having to raise cute animals in my yard just for this. I hope they can forgive me," lamented Sinbad.  
  
  
"It can't be helped," Spartos sighed. "Until we find a way to undo that hex, you will have to live off them. Now that I think about it..."  
  
  
"What is it?"  
  
  
"What if Yunan was the one who sent the assassin?"  
  
  
"Yunan you say?  
  
  
"Actually, a box arrived this morning with an attached card bearing his name and a short message... It asked if you are still alive. I'm sorry, we thought we'll just let you see it later."  
  
  
If that was the case, then Spartos had a point. Since Yunan always enjoyed playing mean tricks on him, he might be the man behind his plight.  
  
  
The supreme boss wheezed, feeling more and more agitated. Just a few more minutes until they reach Sindria and he would be able to check for himself.   
  
  
"This kind of prank is not funny at all. I don't want to go wild if I can help it. Order everyone not to come near the south wing until tomorrow," he commanded.  
  
  
"Right away," Spartos answered as he held out his phone. "I'll relay the message."  
  
  
Looking out the car window, Sinbad narrowed his golden eyes as he licked his dry lower lip.  
  
  
"I might need to feed on a snake this time."  
  
  
  
  



	3. Blossom 03

  
  
  
  
Ren Koumei blinked twice upon swinging the door open. He paused for a few seconds, sighed then crossed his arms over his chest. Before him was his older brother, immersed in a book while sitting comfortably on his bed, on his either side laid several other books and what appeared to be two unconscious women.  
  
  
"Do you need anything?" Kouen asked without moving his thin eyes away from what he was reading.  
  
  
"It's past midnight already. Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?" said Koumei. "You still have to attend the council gathering tomorrow."  
  
  
"How about you?"  
  
  
"I've just finished working on my proposals. I plan to turn in after checking on you."  
  
  
"Almost at the end," Kouen replied as he flipped a page.  
  
  
If people saw his brother being overly passionate with history books like this, Koumei reckoned they would doubt that he was truly an heir to a prestigious yakuza clan. There was no helping it when it came to his academic interests though that did not mean his fury could be underestimated. If anything, it was a fit none of their members or enemies would dream of witnessing.  
  
  
Koumei eyed the women lying on the bed, then he rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
  
"Did they suit your tastes?" he asked his brother.  
  
  
"They weren't bad but I'd prefer a rare journal as a gift instead of famous courtesans."  
  
  
"Not bad you say? They look like they've had it hard..."  
  
  
With his usually impassive expression, the clan heir raised his head and closed the book in hand, then propped up an elbow, his jaw on the back of his hand.  
  
  
"Can you ask someone to take them back? They're taking up a lot space here."  
  
  
"Then I'll ask En Shou. By the way, have you seen Judar lately? He hasn't been showing up in the office."  
  
  
"No. He's playing around on his own again."  
  
  
"I wonder what he's up to now..." Koumei worried. "The last time he was away, he ended up causing a riot with the police."  
  
  
"At least, that helped divert their attention from the previous arms trade we had."  
  
  
"But I had to go through a lot to cover up for him."  
  
  
"He promised me one thing so I guess we should let him be for now."  
  
  
"Promise?"  
  
  
"Yes. Judar said that he'll bring me something interesting."  
  
  
Knowing how mischievous their clan's counselor was, Koumei could not help but feel anxious. As he stared at Kouen's delighted smirk, he only hoped that Judar really meant to fulfill his word with him.  
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
Noises of breaking glasses disturbed the serenity of the evening, effectively making Sinbad's headache a lot worse than before. He realized it was wrong of him to think that he could cool down upon getting home.  
  
  
"Can't you at least pretend to be some helpless captive?" he irritably said by the door while heavily breathing.  
  
  
Welcoming him inside his room with flaming gray eyes was the pale assassin, wearing a white kimono, his wrists secured in cuffs with connecting chains and so were his ankles but with an extension tied to the bed post.  
  
  
"Hey damn monster! What do you intend to do with me?" moodily asked the pale man.  
  
  
He remembered refusing to eat in the morning and consequently was forced to inhale from a bottle that made him faint. By the time he had woken up that late night, he was already cuffed and cleaned up so he began throwing all the bizarre figurines he could get hold of from the side table in order to relieve his irritation.  
  
  
"Seriously. Did you know how hard it was to find these?" said Sinbad while looking at the crumbled bits.  
  
  
"The hell I care about your weird tastes!"  
  
  
Ja'far clenched his teeth as he stared at his target-turned-captor. Seeing him in greatly bloodstained and disheveled gray suit only made him want to flee the place as quickly as possible. If only his weapons were with him, he believed that he would have the chance to escape.  
  
  
While removing his purple tie and unfastening his top buttons, the yakuza boss stepped closer. His golden eyes glowed at the assassin as he observed his appearance.  
  
  
"Shall we continue our conversation?" he said. "You haven't answered any of my questions yet."  
  
  
The assassin clicked his tongue then turned his head away when all of a sudden, the extending chain to the bed post was crushed by the boss, as if his bloody hand was a swinging down blade. He flinched and instinctively slided away but the man tugged him by the shoulders and already had him cornered.  
  
  
"Now, tell me your name."  
  
  
Ja'far bit his lip, stubbornly trying to think of a way to destruct the boss and escape. He reckoned that he could still run even with the cuffs on since the connecting chains were fairly long enough for such movement.  
  
  
With the defiance ticking him off, Sinbad squinted his eyes and grabbed the pale man by the cheeks. His other hand strongly squeezed the arm that he remembered had a long wound.  
  
  
"I'll spare you the pleasantries. If you don't want to end up sucked dry of your blood, tell me who sent you," the boss demanded.  
  
  
A mix of anger and pain on Ja'far's face was evident, after a moment, he rolled his tongue, and downright sneered at Sinbad's rigid smeared face.  
  
  
"As if you'll let me go even if I tell you. Just kill me Beast."  
  
  
Sinbad furrowed his already tense eyebrows.  
  
  
"That's right," he said as he raised the corners of his lips. "I can't let you leave now that you already know my secret. I guess I have no choice."  
  
  
Sensing what was to come, the pale man mustered the strength he still had left and in an instant, kicked the boss hard on his stomach and hit his head with joined clenched fists.  
  
  
In the short moment that Sinbad was taken aback, Ja'far trusted his agility. He crawled out of the bed as quickly as he could, and even when the chain from his feet was abruptly pulled, he tried to kick away desperately.  
  
  
But it was no use. Without any second to blink, he felt overwhelming weight press over his back, his robe was brusquely pulled down and sharp pain pierced his shoulders.  
  
  
"Aaa!"  
  
  
And so he heard it again - the sound of Sinbad slurping blood from him. It sent cold goosebumps all over his body.  
  
  
"Damn... it... Gu...ugh..."  
  
  
Ja'far clutched the sheets tightly with his face down the bed, biting his lip in pain. Then, he jolted when the sharp teeth had withdrawn from his skin and he was roughly turned around.  
  
  
The mad boss pulled his white hair as he tilted his face towards his, suddenly locking him in a hot bloody kiss. The pale man could taste his blood with his own tongue.  
  
  
"Nnnn--- mmph---"  
  
  
Withdrawing from the long feverish kiss, the boss moved down, wrapped his arms around Ja'far's waist and bit on the radiant flesh on his side. He could strongly feel it - the quenching fluid that passed through his throat down his stomach, hot yet sweet to his tastes, delivering ticklish sensation from head to toe. The satisfaction and fullness began to fill his nerves. Still, it was not enough. He needed something more. Something else.  
  
  
Shortly, the pale man gasped loudly as he arched his back, grasping Sinbad by his head.  
  
  
"Bas...tard... What are you-- Guhh-- aahn--"  
  
  
Sinbad deeply sunk his fangs through Ja'far's inner soft thigh. While gulping down more blood from that supple part, he felt a surge in his own body temperature, prompting his hands to freely stroke the parted legs.  
  
  
"Mmm..." he moaned as he savored his food. "Good... Tastes good..."  
  
  
"Let-- go-- Gaa-- It hurts--!" panted the pale man, tears already trickling down his temple.  
  
  
Heeding the plea, the boss broke free from his long bite and sat up. He stared down Ja'far as he licked the bood on his own lips.  
  
  
"I don't feel like listening to someone who won't even tell me his name," he said.  
  
  
Panting in daze, the pale man swallowed and opened his trembling lips.  
  
  
"Ja..."  
  
  
"Hm?"  
  
  
"Ja... far..."  
  
  
"Ja'far huh?" mused Sinbad while displaying a satisfied smile smeared in blood. "Well then, Ja'far... Are you aware of what I've been through the whole day?"  
  
  
The pale man twitched upon seeing the angry boss take off his stained suit and shirt. His mind told him to get away but his body felt too heavy and frozen.  
  
  
"I've never been this unstable, this  hungry in my life. And it's all your fault," Sinbad stated.  
  
  
"Wha-what?"  
  
  
In both irritation and anxiety, Ja'far began inching away as the half naked man above him began drawing closer.  
  
  
"You better take responsibility."  
  
  
As Sinbad breathed his demand, he yanked the pale man in and seized his blood smeared lips again. Twisting and chasing, he took his chance and slipped in his tongue that pushed and entangled the other's, hot and soft and slick.  
  
  
"Nnghh-- nnn---"  
  
  
After the mind blowing kiss, the boss began licking Ja'far's jelly earlobe and the length of his sweaty neck. His free hands explored his pale chest, caressed his lithe hips, and crept up to squeeze his buttocks.  
  
  
"Where are you touching me, stupid monster?!"  
  
  
"Oh, should I be more direct?" teased the boss.  
  
  
Swiftly, he aimed for his prey's weakness and grabbed his member.  
  
  
"Aahh!"  
  
  
With flushed, tear stained cheeks, the pale man abruptly jolted, his cuffed hands clutching on the boss's arms.  
  
  
"You're pretty lewd Ja'far," Sinbad chuckled. "This one's very excited and sticky."  
  
  
"N-no way-- hyaaa--aa--ah!"  
  
  
Ja'far could not believe it. His shaft was actually responding to the sensual rough touches. And much to his shame, the man he just called a beast began quickly stroking his hard cock up and down, making him moan obscenely.  
  
  
"Hyaa-- Ahhn-- Sto--p---"  
  
  
"But you like it, right?" breathed Sinbad against his tempting neck before he bit it.  
  
  
"Ugh! Nnn-- Haa-- Not again--"  
  
  
Being jerked off and sucked for blood at the same time sent the pale man squirming and gasping, his head already lightheaded and fingertips numb. The blood loss left him frail and sweer, and he disliked hearing his own shameless moans but try as he might not to admit it, his lower half was certainly feeling the intense heat.  
  
  
With trickling blood from his mouth, Sinbad shifted, parted Ja'far's smeared  robes and began planting kisses down his collar and chest. Soon he twisted and pulled one hard nipple with his free hand and sucked on the other, causing a sudden quiver and loud whimper from his mate. He smiled as he felt a gush of thick nectar on his palm.  
  
  
"So your nipples are you weakness?" he chuckled.  
  
  
As he panted and looked away, the pale man's cheeks became much redder. Seeing his flustered appearance only spurred on the growing need inside Sinbad's body, hastening his already quick heartbeat.  
  
  
"I can't stand it anymore," said the boss as he clicked his tongue.  
  
  
"Wha-what-- Hey, aren't you full yet-- Gaa!"  
  
  
Ja'far was bit again for the nth time, though in that instance, there was no blood being taken from him. Instead, he had to yelp upon sensing a rush finger pierce inside the crevice between his buttocks.  
  
  
"Idiot-- N-not there-- Haa-- Why--"  
  
  
Shortly, Sinbad inserted another finger, kneading the pale man's insides, until it stabbed at a delightful spot that had him whimpering and shedding more enticing tears. After minutes of twisting and rubbing, he raised his mate's scarred legs and roughly broke the chain connecting the cuffs around his ankles.  
  
  
For a moment, Ja'far was utterly stunned, unable to make sense of what was happening. In an abrupt motion, his legs were spread open, Sinbad devoured his wet lips once more, stifling his cry as a throbbing hardness poked his hole and eventually made its way deep inside him. His lithe body jerked when the boss began thrusting in and out.  
  
  
"Mmph! Mmm!"  
  
  
As he continuously pushed in and out the wiggling, sobbing pale man, Sinbad   felt much more satiated. Since the night that he attacked him, overwhelming impatience had plagued his body. After tasting his blood, none of the animals he had usually drank from were able to quench his abnormal need. He had always been adamant not to harm humans for his odd plight but with Ja'far, he found himself completely agitated and unable to contain his urges. If the said assassin was indeed sent by Yunan to irk him then he had long succeeded.  
  
  
Sinbad broke away from the passionate kiss, letting out the hoarse voice of his mate.  
  
  
"It-- hurts-- nn-- really-- feels-- haa-- weird--"  
  
  
"You should stop being cute already. You have enough bite marks as it is."  
  
  
"D-don't bite-- Ungh--"  
  
  
"Do you feel like telling me now who ordered you to kill me?"  
  
  
Sinbad vigorously slammed in then pulled out until the tip, then rapidly thrusted back in again. Grinding in and out continuously, obscene wet sounds filled their ears.  
  
  
Ja'far bit his lower lip as his cuffed hands held on to the boss's chest. At that point, there was no need for him to protect his client's identity, given that he was not a valued ally, but he hated losing. Giving up the information meant that he would lose to the beast that fed on him.  
  
  
"You're really stubborn," remarked Sinbad.  
  
  
Without pulling out of the pale man, he took his cuffed hands and broke the chain between them. He then slided his arm behind him and yanked him closer, another hand holding the man's face as he bared his fangs and stabbed them on his shoulder.  
  
  
At the same time, he strongly grinded faster and deeper into Ja'far's tightness, making sure his pleasure spot was being hit. He squeezed his arm around him and after another bloody drink, caught his lips again for a convulsing kiss.  
  
  
Tingling yet and intensely electrifying, everything tightened Ja'far's chest and he felt like no matter how loud he cried or clutched at Sinbad, there was really no way out. It was no use. Since he found out that the man was not normal, he had already failed.  
  
  
When the boss released his wet lips, Ja'far tried hard to catch his breath in between his uncontrolled moans.  
  
  
"Did Yunan send you to assassinate me?" Sinbad demanded.  
  
  
The pale man fervently shook his head as he gasped, the boss rocking him hard nonstop.  
  
  
"Then who did?"  
  
  
"Ju--haa--ahn--ar--"  
  
  
"Louder," commanded Sinbad. "I can't hear you."  
  
  
"Ju-- nnn--- gu-- Judar--"  
  
  
"Judar?"  
  
  
The boss squinted his golden eyes and furrowed his eyebrows as he slammed much much quicker inside his mate.  
  
  
"Kou?" he said. "Do you belong to his group?"  
  
  
"No-- gu-- aa-- ahn!"  
  
  
"Then why do you work for him?"  
  
  
"I-I'm-- an assassin-- haa- ah- so-- already-- stop-- yaaa--"  
  
  
"Stop? When you're feeling this good?"   
  
  
"No more-- nnn-- too deep-- hyaaa-- deep-- Sin-- Sinbad-- "  
  
  
Just the cry of his name with that flushed freckled face was enough to make him run berserk. The boss did not understand why but Ja'far was the very first person to ever rile him up.  
  
  
Already nearing his climax, he rammed hurriedly into the hugging tightness, then he felt Ja'far's digging nails on his tattoed back, the latter's dark gray eyes lost in immense rapture and squirting plenty of honey as he moaned and shivered.   
  
  
A few more powerful grinding until Sinbad himself gasped, spasmed, and squeezed the hips he had pulled towards him. He generously jammed the pale man's hole with his hot semen, then pulled out after a long orgasm and rolled over on the messy stained bed while heavily breathing.  
  
  
The sated boss gazed at the window and found the bright moon shining its rays through his room. He sensed that the agitation he was restraining the whole day had finally disappeared, making him realize what lengths had to be done in order to calm himself.  
  
  
Sinbad turned his head the other way, his golden eyes blinked, then ruefully narrowed as he stared at Ja'far, all weak, messed up, and conspicuously marked all over by him. Remorse began seeping through his chest for the man even though he was an assassin. He sat up and loomed over him.  
  
  
Ja'far felt sting in every part of his body. He could only stare back at the looming boss with his half open eyes and slightly parted lips. In his mind, he knew that he did not seek escape anymore or cared where he was. All he wanted was to sleep away his fatigue and forget how he had reacted to the other man that night.  
  
  
"You're right," murmured Sinbad as he cupped the pale man's cheek and wiped the blood and tear from it. "I really am... a monster. Even I don't know what I'm doing anymore."  
  
  
If not for his aching throat, Ja'far wanted to tell him that he was truly an idiot for being able to gently touch him after what he had done. But looking at Sinbad's golden eyes, he knew that he was the foolish one, aware that there was unbelievably something within himself that had awaken. He had never  thought that the day would come that he would get carried away with another person... or creature.  
  
  
Sinbad ran his fingers through his white hair wet from sweat, planted a light kiss on it, then backed away as he delivered his statement.  
  
  
"I've decided, Ja'far. You'll stop being an assassin. You will never work for others anymore."  
  
  
"Who... are you... to just decide that.." the pale man mumbled.  
  
  
Sinbad smiled as he caressed his lips.  
  
  
"From now on, I, Sinbad of Sindria and the Seven Seas, are making you mine."  
  
  
"Stupid... Don't... regret this... Sin..."  
  
  
As Ja'far softly warned him, his dark gray eyes had closed as he fell into the soundest sleep he ever had in his life.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
"How long has she been like this?" asked Kouen.  
  
  
"Since she came home last night, Young Master," Ka Koubun answered.  
  
  
As Kougyoku's attendant, he did not want to let her be seen in an unsightly state but the news of her crying all night had already reached her older brothers. Even he who had been raising the youngest lady of the Kou clan for years could not stop her.  
  
  
With his usually impassive face, the Kou heir walked towards his sister and sat beside her on the bed.  
  
  
"What's wrong?" he inquired.  
  
  
"Nothing," muttered Kougyoku while her fingers wiped her tears.  
  
  
"That isn't nothing. Did anyone make you cry?"  
  
  
Upon hearing the question, the sister began another sob.  
  
  
"You're one of the children of a noble yakuza clan so you shouldn't cry like this. Nothing will happen if you just mope around. Just tell me what happened and I may help you."  
  
  
"B-but it's embarassing..."  
  
  
"What is it?"  
  
  
There was no way she could refuse if it was her dearest brother who asked. Kougyoku always believed in his kindness so maybe, she could disclose her worries with him.  
  
  
"I... I was rejected... I thought he could love me back..."  
  
  
With a palm on his face, Ka Koubun heaved a sigh. He could not believe his lady was actually talking about her love life with the Kou heir.  
  
  
"And who is this man who refused your feelings?" asked Kouen.  
  
  
"It's... Sir Sinbad."  
  
  
"Of the Seven Seas?"  
  
  
"Y-yes. He's a really nice man, Brother! He never treated me differently even if I'm from the Kou clan. It's just that... I was too stupid to think that he'll take me seriously so..."  
  
  
All of a sudden, Kouen stood up and pat his sister's head.  
  
  
"Forget it already. You don't need to shed any more tears for him."  
  
  
"Brother..."  
  
  
"Leave everything to me," Kouen stated as he turned away.  
  
  
When he had left the room, Kougyoku had also stopped crying. She could not help but feel that talking about Sinbad with his brother was a mistake.  
  
  
  


 

 


	4. Blossom04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story!

 

 

 

He should not have accepted the job.

  
For a thousand times, Ja'far told himself what a fool he was as he swam in bitter regret. He stayed still, watching the faint steam lift off the warm water he was half immersed in. He could hardly remember when the last time he took a long bath was. He usually just scrubbed himself clean with towel and soap, then showered for no longer than fifteen minutes, not bothering to soak in and soothe his nerves.

  
But that evening was different. The several evenings before that had also been different. The pale man was not in his rundown apartment and not in the coldness of his small white bathroom. He wearily smacked his flushed face with his wrinkled palm, feeling light headed with the long soak.

  
"What the hell am I even doing here?"

  
Ja'far got up on his feet. He wiped his body dry and changed to the sleepwear prepared for him by one of the maids. He even had his own room now in the estate. He frowned at the thought that Sinbad was seriously intending to keep him as a new recruit of their group.

  
"That idiot," Ja'far hissed, looking at his bruises. "I'm only food for him."

  
If he did not take a suspicious job from Judar, he reckoned he would still be living his noncommittal life. He would not feel tired or dizzy and doubt the reality before him.

  
He lay on his stomach then closed his eyes. Everything was boring in the massive residence. Nothing appealed to his curiosity. At times like these, he preferred roaming discreetly on the road, either following a target to threaten or just letting himself be swallowed by the darkness of the city.

  
Ja'far felt his stomach churn. Sinbad had not shown himself after that night he attacked Ja'far. The glow in those golden eyes flashed vividly in his mind, the memory of their bloody encounter giving him goosebumps. Who would have thought that a handsome and charismatic boss of the underground world kept a beastly secret, and that to discover it required someone to fall victim to him?

  
Whether it was living as a disposable assassin or joining the Seven Seas Alliance, nothing really changed at all. Either way, Ja'far knew he was just being used.

  
The pale man curled his fingers and breathed his decision before drifting off to sleep.

  
"I can't stay here."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sinbad was not the typical boss. He did not wear a devious or cold expression, instead he was always flashing a laidback smile to his men. He never gave out orders as though everyone around him should be slaved around and groveling to his feet. Even those from the authorities would not have even guessed his background with his demeanor alone.

  
Pisti once asked if he had ever considered working as a celebrity with the magnetic pull he had on women. Sinbad laughed this off and said that his current life held more thrill than any other job he could think of.

  
At the bottom of it all, he was a smart man who -- in an early age -- inherited and took over his late father's business in the red light district. Initially, they had a small restaurant located near a casino. Sinbad enjoyed the experience of managing it and was content with the income. As a teenager, he never thought of going so far as to joining an underground organization to earn money. But after he lost his mother and discovered the complexities of life, he decided to create his own group and rule over this side of the city.

  
Years later, people had come to know him as a cunning businessman, whether the field was legal or not. Although for the last seven years since Sinbad began yearning for blood, his illegal ventures were always on the low. He did not want any more authorities sniffing down his turfs to just accidentally come across a different case. Thus, the confusion floated on the boardroom that afternoon.

  
"Arms trade?" Pisti uttered quizzically.

  
"Yes," the supreme boss nodded.

  
Spartos and Yamuraiha looked at each other.

  
"What makes you interested in that now?" Sharrkan asked, well aware that the group did not touch the arms and drug business.

  
"I've heard that Kou is dominating that field."

  
"That's one of their cash rivers," Drakon said.

  
"Indeed. And unlike them, we're doing well without that," said Hinahoho. "The casinos and clubs are working just fine."

  
Sinbad curved his lips, leaning back to his black leather seat.

  
"That's my reason," he told them casually. "I don't like them doing well in that business."

  
Drakon sighed. Sinbad might not look like it, but when piqued, he was far more dangerous than any man he had ever met. He was sure that the evening when the pale assassin was sent to his residence was a trigger to his current mood. After finding out that Judar was involved with the incident, the supreme boss began thoroughly checking for Kou's business circuits.

  
"You really hate that brat Judar, don't you?" Yamuraiha commented. "Our informant says he's in charge with the shipment of those foreign weapons."

  
"I do, so I'm returning the favor," Sinbad grinned.

  
He very well remembered how the vicious man laughed at him after he framed him during a drug raid two years ago. Just recalling the arduous process he had to go through to prove himself innocent gave him headache.

  
"That said, this might not turn out so well. He's got his own boss to back him up."

  
Hinahoho nodded.

  
"But it's about time we do something about him. Kou is responsible. They obviously tolerate his behavior," said Pisti.

  
"So, how do we lure him out? Surely, we just don't sabotage their operations," Spartos inquired.

  
"We have the point of contact in custody," Sinbad said, bringing a cup of coffee to his lips.

  
Slight frowns were directed in his way, a reaction he had quite expected.

  
"I know, I shouldn't trust him," voicing out the thoughts of his subordinates.

  
"I don't think he'll be a convenient bait," Pisti said.

  
"I would be surprised if he cooperates. He seems completely rebellious to me," Yamuraiha told him.

  
But to Sinbad, he was plenty useful. Not only did Ja'far knew Judar, the pale man was also capable of taming the beastly hunger of the supreme boss.

  
"Don't worry, I'll deal with him."

  
Sharrkan sighed. He loosened the tie on his collar before leaning back.

  
"I guess I'll go visit some bars and ask around for information," he said.

  
Sinbad nodded in satisfaction, his smile almost malicious. As they discussed other matters, the phone in his pocket vibrated. Hinahoho noticed a slight wrinkle form on his forehead while Sinbad read the message.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Judar rubbed the back of his head, whistling as he looked the other way. He hummed softly as he remained standing against the office desk. For a long moment, Koumei eyed him sharply without saying a word and looking almost as though he was a strict teacher who caught a silly student cheating in class.

  
"Geez, how long are you gonna stare at me like that?" the lad asked, tired of waiting for Koumei to start speaking. "I just went away for around three weeks."

  
"The last time that happened, the police got you."

  
Judar smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore glasses and dressed like a typical college student, hoping the humble look would lessen the intensity of Koumei's nagging.

  
"You worry too much, Koumei. I was working hard, you know."

  
The freckled man squinted from his chair. Indeed, Judar was an important part of their clan, and he could manage difficult operations. However, half of those were mixed with mischief and unnecessary attention.

  
"What were you up to this time?" he asked.

  
"I got us some new shipment next week. Lots of merchandise to come," happily said Judar. "I tested the samples. They're easy to use."

  
The stern expression on Koumei's face began to relax. He did receive the report that morning about the schedule of delivery. He had the inventory of the new foreign arms sent to him, and the estimated revenue was way more satisfactory and bigger than the last three they had earned from.

  
"I was not referring to the trade," he told Judar.

  
Koumei stood up to get his accounting book from the shelf and check for the month-to-date report. Watching him, the mischievous lad sat on the couch by the window and helped himself to a pack of peach candies from his pocket. Of course, he knew Koumei was not asking about his work.

  
"I sent someone to pay Sinbad a visit," Judar said while chewing on his sweets. "I thought I'd greet him. After all, it's been two years since we last saw each other."

  
Koumei sighed as he turned around. He was not against vexing the popular boss from their rival group, but he wished that dealing with Sinbad was planned more carefully.

  
"At least tell us before you make any move. The Seven Seas isn't going to let you off after what you did to him. My brother hates hassles."

  
"But I just can't help teasing him. And I'm doing this for Kouen."

  
"Is this about that thing you said you'd bring him?" Koumei asked.

  
"Right. I haven't gotten any word back from my moody friend. It seems that your brother's suspicions about Sinbad are true."

  
Judar tapped on his phone's inbox. Ja'far did not reply to any of his messages since he asked him for the job -- not that he expected him to in the first place. The corners of his lips curved to an amused grin. Judar was sure that Sinbad must be quite annoyed by now after reading his recent text to Ja'far.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A pair of dark gray eyes jerked open along with a soft gasp. Ja'far sat up awake by the sudden tug to his ankle. The hand around it was warm -- almost feverish -- but it sent chills and triggered cold sweat all over his body. Glowing eyes met his vision as Sinbad slowly leaned in on the bed.

  
The pale man pursed his lips as he pulled his leg away. It was unsettling to see Sinbad again a few weeks after that delirious evening together.

  
"What do you want?" Ja'far asked, his angry tone masking his nervousness.

  
The supreme boss narrowed his eyes as he noticed him inch back to the headboard.

  
"What?" Ja'far said.

  
His nervousness was turning into irritation. On several notes, he deeply regretted getting caught up with the troubles of these groups. And having to put up with the bizarre man before him in the middle of the night just added to his internal distress.

  
"Feed me."

  
Ja'far blinked wide upon hearing Sinbad. The wounds that were already gone from his skin seemed to ache lightly as though they remembered the sharp fangs that sunk through them. His heart pounded loudly inside his chest.

  
"Feed me, Ja'far," Sinbad breathed.

  
The pale man looked at Sinbad ruefully. There was no doubt the boss had this inexplicable aura that rendered Ja'far frozen in a subtle daze. It was the same mysterious spell he almost fell under before he plunged those daggers to the man's chest the first time he met him. Ja'far understood it as Sinbad's hateful charm, and this realization scared him. As an assassin, he had long known that any form of manipulation -- whether intended or not -- was downright dangerous.

  
"That Masrur said you eat animal blood. You will survive with that, so can't you just--"

  
It was futile to protest. Sinbad quickly pinned Ja'far down on his back and grabbed his silver white hair, piercing his fair shoulder with sharp teeth. The pale man groaned continuously in pain, legs flailing to break free from the boss's touch. Goosebumps crawled over his skin as he heard the sucking noises Sinbad made. Every gulp of blood was infuriating.

  
"Damn you, Sinbad! Ugh!"

  
The way the boss withdrew his fangs hurt as much as when he sunk them in. Ja'far's gray eyes watered at the great sting left on his shoulder. He rolled to his side, clenching his fists on the bedsheets. A long while passed but Sinbad was still not moving away from his side.

  
"Go away!" yelled the pale man. "You already got what you want!"

  
"Not really."

  
Ja'far threw a pillow at Sinbad's face before slapping him hard.

  
"Are you trying to slowly kill me?"

  
A gasp escaped his thin lips as Sinbad tugged his wrists and brought him close to his chest. So far, he had seen the supreme boss in three expressions -- threatening, hungry, and this time, Ja'far believed he was irritated. He could not even guess why. Ja'far only knew he disliked Sinbad's treatment. He was being toyed with, Ja'far was certain.

  
"Sleep with me," the boss exhaled with the sly twist of his lips.

  
"You lecherous, crazy, damn beast," Ja'far spat.

  
As he did, it was as if ice slided from his throat down to his stomach, the chilling sensation slowly spreading throughout his nerves. He knew better than throwing all these foul words in front of the man. He knew that provoking Sinbad would only cause him trouble. Even so, Ja'far was stressed over the feeling welling up inside him. It was a feeling that could only be channeled through his anger.

  
"Let me ask you again..."

  
Keeping a foxy smile, Sinbad held Ja'far's chin up with his warm fingertips. His golden eyes were like dancing candle flames in the darkness, piercing through Ja'far's soul. The pale man could not help but be entranced by the keen stare despite the loud alarm inside his head telling him to leave this place as soon as he could before it was too late.

  
"Do you belong to Judar's group?" the boss asked.

  
With heavy lids, Ja'far averted his gaze. Looking at the boss longer only made the discomfort in his chest worse. What did it even matter if he belonged to Kou or not? If he said he did, would Sinbad change his mind about keeping him and kill him instead? As it was, Ja'far knew he was taken in because he just happened to find out the man's secret.

  
"I already told you I don't," he murmured.

  
Sinbad narrowed his eyes. The fresh and inviting scent of blood still tickled his nostrils strongly. He could even feel the roots of his teeth tingling with excitement over Ja'far's fragrance, the way a child would become agitated to bite his second candy. Ja'far was a cure to his aroused senses, but Sinbad also knew that he had been affecting Ja'far in some way. He felt it during that evening of their union. Sinbad felt that he could control him just like how he had always won over others' favors. Since that afternoon, however, he began doubting the initial impression he had about the pale man.

  
Maintaining his strong gaze, Sinbad raised his arms, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. His toned body -- shadowed by the rays of moonlight coming through the window -- looked like work of art. The color of his skin accentuated the captivating glow of his eyes darting down at Ja'far. Amused with Ja'far's reaction, Sinbad kept on undressing himself.

  
"You idiot! Has anybody taught you about-- Mmph!"

  
The boss sealed his lips roughly, and much more hungrily than when he last kissed him. He sucked his breath, leading him into a deep heated kiss. He refused to let go of Ja'far's mouth even when the pale man kept on hitting his chest with bony fists.

  
"Hnn--Nngh--"

  
When Sinbad sensed him already inhaling sharply through his nostrils, he broke the feverish kiss and moved to lick his soft ear instead. He felt the shudder from Ja'far's body at the lap of his tongue on his radiant skin. Cold hands began clutching around his broad shoulders as he bit the line of Ja'far's neck. Sinbad did not pierce him with his fangs though. He left marks but not deep enough to wound him.

  
"Bastard!" huffed the pale man, cheeks flushed.

  
His fingers were growing weak with Sinbad's every touch. The boss altered between drowning him in beastly kisses and slurping down a fair neck and chest with his hot tongue. Repeatedly, he teased Ja'far's senses, keen on making him helpless with his skillful mouth.

  
"How long have you known Judar?"

  
"Huh?"

  
A small breath of confusion was the only response Ja'far was able to make. After finding himself dizzy and quite lost with that long and breathtaking foreplay, it took a moment to process the question thrown at him.

  
"I also told you, Judar was my client for three years."

  
Once more, Sinbad pulled him into a lip-biting kiss before repeating the question as a wet whisper in his ear and adding further inquiries seductively.

  
"How close are you with him? What kind of relationship do you have with the Kou clan? Tell me..."

  
"Why?" Ja'far managed to exhale.

  
A pull at his hard nipple had him whimpering. By this time, the supreme boss had already pulled his robes down his slender and pale waist.

  
"What you do, where you came from, the people you've met... You intrigue me so much, I want to know you more. So I would like you..." Sinbad whispered before licking his abdomen and propping his slender leg up. "...to tell me everything about you."

  
Ja'far furrowed his brows as his heart leaped. His chest was heaving from strong arousal. He scolded himself internally. As someone who said he did not want any of this, he was now ashamed to be actually feeling so much of it.

  
Why? Up until then, did he subconsciously long to be touched that bad? The pale man questioned himself if he had been so fed up with his lifestyle to allow a supposed target to rile him up.

  
Ja'far grabbed a fistful of Sinbad's soft purple hair, gritting his teeth to call every fiber of self-control he had left that was not stained by the boss's seduction. Quite puzzled, Sinbad raised his head. The pale man sat up and reached out to press his lips.

  
A pair of golden eyes blinked twice. It was the first time his captive took the initiative. Sinbad found himself pleased, closing his eyes as he savored those thin gentle lips. The rash movements from earlier turned into a slow sensual sway that Sinbad hoped lasted longer when Ja'far pulled away.

  
But a few seconds later, the boss thought it was not bad the kiss just stopped. Ja'far's reddish, freckled cheeks and expression as bashfulness dawned on him was worth the good look.

  
"You're ador--"

  
"Good night," the pale man flatly said.

  
"What?"

  
"I'm dizzy and sleepy. I can't do any more than what we did. Give me some time to recover, will you? I'm not as strong as someone like you."

  
"..."

  
After taking on such a bold move, the pale man's mind began racing wild, and it had been countless times since he came to Sindria that it did. He had not been out of contact for that long before. Even though Vittel and Mahad were not convenient companions most of the time, they would definitely worry about him. Sham Lash welcomed retirement, but to do so, members should tell the higher-ups and go through proper procedures, else they would be suspected of violations to their contracts. Ja'far already did, but it was not like he was really quitting. He also remembered Judar would be inquiring after him. Judar was childish and could be overbearing, but he paid well whenever he had contracts with him.

  
Ja'far lifted the upper robes hanging around his waist, standing up to drink a glass of water from the nearby table. The heat of the evening was making him restless.

  
"Also, can you at least allow me outside? Your garden of bunnies will do for a much needed breath of outdoor air."

  
"You're lying."

  
"Huh?"

  
As the pale man turned around, he found himself easily tugged and tossed down the bed, both arms pinned down on either side of his side, squirming for freedom from the hot clutches of the boss.

  
"Hey-- ! Wait! Where are you touching me-- Ngh!"

  
Sinbad was a horrible beast. Indeed, he was considered dashing and inhumanly attractive with his charm, but Ja'far was sure that every part of him had the blood of a wild, scary, untamed beast.

  
"I hate you," he exhaled ruefully before closing his eyes.

 

 

 


	5. Blossom 05

  
He could not help but hold on to the broad shoulders above him, unable to keep his thin lips tight with the hot, electrifying sensation overwhelming his nerves. Heavy, quick breaths escaped from him when he moved his head back, burrowing into the damp pillow. Half open dark eyes were glistening right below the wet silver white fringe on his forehead.

  
"Nnn--"

  
Ja'far shuddered when the hot tongue nibbling on his earlobe eventually swept down his neck, the sound of wet suckles tickling his ear. Long before the sun rose, he had already used up a day's worth of energy. The sheets beneath his back had been hot and wet with so much sweat. Even his mind was left swimming with the various stimuli given to him from head to toe. He was caught between trance and exhaustion until his eyes widened.

  
"Wai-- Ah! Ah!" he panted as his lithe body was jerked hard without warning, the pace becoming much wilder after the languid rhythm earlier. "Too fast-- Ohhh--"

  
"I couldn't control myself anymore from giving what you need," teased Sinbad against his ear.

  
"Damn-- Haa-- you-- Ah! Haa! Aa!"

  
While hastening the way he slammed in and out of the other's pleasing tightness, the boss chuckled softly. He was always delighted whenever he cornered the pale man like this -- tired yet responsive to his touches, aggravated but completely immersed in numbing pleasure. He liked seeing Ja'far helpless under him despite the reservations the man had for his pride.

  
"You're truly adorable," Sinbad praised him before leaning in to devour his lips.

  
If not for the hateful man powerfully grinding his thick shaft inside him, making him shamelessly moan and writhe in bed, the pale man would not have known what sensual punishment was like. Sinbad had been visiting him almost every evening, apparently intending to learn more about his past and at the same time, meaning to squeeze out any remainder of self-esteem he had.

  
The only consolation Ja'far got was that the boss refrained from feeding on his blood for the past weeks. He could only guess the bizarre creature was back to his usual diet and had finally taken reins of his hunger. Nonetheless, the control did not seem to extend to his excited lower body.

  
The only other benefit he was able to get from this affair was that he could spend his time during the day out in the yard. Of course, he could still not be entirely free as Masrur kept on guarding him.

  
"Ja'far..."

  
Momentarily frozen by the warm voice calling his name, the pale man yelped loudly when he was abruptly yanked close against Sinbad's torso. He was most embarrassed in this position when he had no other choice but to stare down at his captor, their chests pressed together and his legs strained against the back of his thighs.

  
"You're really not fond of this move, huh?" said Sinbad as he kissed his shoulder. "I thought I got you used to it by now."

  
The pale man did not need him to point it out. He wanted to shout how annoying and perverted the boss was, but only obscene cries came out of his mouth whenever he tried to utter an insulting word. His temperature was feverish, the drops of sweat on his forehead trickled down his chest.

  
"I like you," the boss breathed, eliciting the huffs and gasps he desired the most from Ja'far as he grabbed and squeezed his dripping member.

  
"Not-- Haaa! At the same-- Ngh! Ah! --time!"

  
But the more he pleaded, the more his member was squeezed and rubbed faster. He clutched Sinbad's arms, pressing his fingers hard to the strong muscles. With the boss licking around his hard nipples, tightly holding his cock, and so deep into his crevice, the pale man was so close to coming.

  
"Tell me what you want now," the boss whispered, his movement relaxing.

  
After a few thrusts which made him dizzy, Ja'far reached up to embrace Sinbad tightly. He brought their lips together in a biting and breath-taking kiss before exhaling his reply.

  
"I want you," he gasped in floating daze.

  
In an instant, Sinbad's eyes brightened up along with a loud beating in his chest. He swallowed as the moment caught him off guard; only then did he realize that he stopped rocking his hips.

  
Willing away his racing thoughts, the boss lifted the pale man's legs and ground harder inside him until the latter finally came, whimpering and quivering in his arms. The gratifying release painted Sinbad's chest with a warm and sticky cream. Soon after, he felt his own need as he squeezed the pale man's hips, filling him generously with his honey.

  
With the way things had been going on between them, it was evident that the boss kept Ja'far for his convenience. The pale man quenched his hunger. But on second thought, this same person who dubiously gave what he needed was the reason he was feeling the uncontrollable ache and urges in the first place.

  
It was as if Ja'far was the source of his sickness and, at the same time, his ultimate cure.

  
Narrowing his eyes, the boss studied the pale man lying meekly beside him. He had been so worn out from their intense coupling that he easily fell asleep as soon as his body dropped down the bed and after Sinbad rolled over to his side.

  
"And it's just after sunrise..."

  
If his subordinates knew how intimate this relationship was going, the boss was sure to get an earful. He had them all thinking that he was simply visiting Ja'far to extract more information about Judar and to make him the bait for the Kou clan's young councillor.

  
For the past week, Sinbad found out that the pale man was a veteran assassin who belonged to Sham Lash. This organization were paid by influential businessmen and politicians to take care of their dirty deals. For three years now, Ja'far had been a frequent contact of Judar. He disposed anyone the mischievous councillor at Kou deemed useless and problematic until he was tasked to assault Sinbad.

  
It was with great effort and seduction to make Ja'far share these matters, but even the information he disclosed hardly mattered to the Seven Seas Alliance. What the supreme boss wanted were Judar's current ties in the underground world that they could still use as an opening to aim for their target. But no matter how much Sinbad pressed, all the pale man claimed to know were the ones Judar already dismissed, some key persons he already killed.

  
"Mmnn..." the pale man hummed in his sleep.

  
With his slightly parted lips, soft breaths, and gently closed eyes, Ja'far looked so defenseless and innocent. Looking at him like this, Sinbad would have never guessed that he was a hired assassin. Surely there could have been other choices for him.

  
Sinbad's brows furrowed. It was not like he was judging the pale man's choice, given that as a yakuza boss, his hands were also stained. But during the few times that he had heard Ja'far groan miserably with his nightmares during sleep, Sinbad knew he was a vulnerable person deep inside. Much more troubled with his life than how he appeared to be.

  
And this was why a great part of the boss could not just leave him alone. He could have killed him to keep his secret, but taking him in won over his decision. He reckoned taming Ja'far and grooming him to become an obedient subordinate would benefit them both. This seemed the most appealing plan until Ja'far's phone vibrated and showed Judar's name.

 

_ I miss you, Moody. I thought I told you to do something about your wound. When you're done playing around with that stupid boss, come see me. Kouen is excited to see you again, too. _

  
The malice of the message sparked a fire of disgust inside the supreme boss. As a cunning troublemaker, Judar knew who was reading it. The message was not truly intended for Ja'far, it was made to challenge Sinbad.

  
All along, the boss had been surmising that the assassin was not only a trap for him, but he was also a victim in this farce. Judar rarely spared anyone involved with his pranks. The sick amusement was what only mattered to the playful brat. Remorse also struck Sinbad, thinking it had been planned for Ja'far to be subjected to the horrors of his uncontrollable, monstrous self. But having read the message, doubts were clouding his judgment. If Ja'far was familiar enough to the clan to arouse the interest of Ren Kouen, it could mean that Sinbad had not fully accounted his possible secrets.

  
Perhaps he was a trusted subordinate of the family, and his recent mission was assassination. Or maybe he indeed worked for Sham Lash, only with a profound fondness for Kouen and Judar, thus the favors he did for them. The boss listed all possibilities in his head from which one stood out as intriguing.

  
Could Ja'far be a kept man of the Kou clan's first son? Sinbad had not even suspected him of that nature given his honest discomfort and other complaints in bed especially in the beginning. However, if that was truly the case, then it meant the boss was the man being seduced to be taken advantage of and not the other way around. This train of thought made his head ache. As far as he was concerned, he could have anyone he wanted wrapped around his finger. Every intimate encounter always had the other person convinced into doing his bidding and yielding to him -- a gift he was grateful for. The supreme boss had never been deceived by seduction before. And he did not plan for it to happen anytime.

  
Still pondering on what to do with Ja'far, the supreme boss climbed off the bed. He clothed the pale man with a clean yukata and left the room in soft footsteps. He walked back to his own quarters, took a quick shower, then dressed up formally for work. While making his way to the dining hall for breakfast, he checked his calendar then his messages and found one interesting name -- Kougyoku.

  
A pair of golden eyes narrowed. After several weeks, only then did he remember how awfully he had acted in front of the lady during their previous dinner. He should not have rejected her so easily if he discovered sooner that Ja'far was sent by Judar. Then again, he could not contemplate on decent manners when overcame by intense and mind-numbing hunger for blood.

  
As he sat down and was served his usual morning miso soup, he dialed her number. It took a few rings before his call was answered. There was the notable absence of a sweet greeting from the other line which used to be delivered in a matter of milliseconds.

  
With the phone to his ear, Sinbad smiled ruefully.

  
"I have been very rude to you."

  
"..."

  
"I'm sorry that you have to witness my ugly side. But if I stayed longer that night, I would have shown far worse. I wasn't feeling well."

  
The silence from Kougyoku's line was interrupted only by soft breaths and distant noises of passing cars.

  
"I didn't want you to see me at my worst mood. The embarrassment won't allow me to see you again," Sinbad said, his voice deep and whole, "even when I want to."

  
After a long pause, a heavy sigh from the lady followed as if it took all her courage to speak.

  
"I-I forgive you," her voice shook. "It can't be helped. Let's forget about what happened."

  
"I understand."

  
"Uhm... Sir Sinbad--"

  
"Can we meet up for lunch?" Sinbad stole her words. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to bring you to one of my restaurants."

  
"Of-of course, it's not a problem," Kougyoku readily answered, sounding flustered yet pleased. "I will see you later."

  
"Thank you. I'll call you again."

  
When the call ended, Spartos walked in and took the seat across the boss. A male servant quickly brought him his tea and a couple of his favorite meat buns.

  
"Another date with the daughter of the Kou Clan?" he asked casually.

  
Sinbad curved his lips, cutting a chunk of the steamed mackerel with his chopsticks.

  
"If I can't get much information from him, there must be other ways."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hearing the random talks of passing men clad in dark shirts and suits was the scenery in the estate garden that noon. Snippets of their conversation from the stone path leading to the receiving area reached the shady bench from where the pale man sat. Two men boasted to each other about who got the most luck from last night's gamble. A second pair who walked after them chatted about the next party in town hosted by one of Sinbad's councillors.

  
"To whom do they report?" Ja'far inquired.

  
Standing quietly against the wisteria tree, Masrur stared him down. There was a hint of apprehension on his thin eyes before he answered in a low voice.

  
"Alibaba."

  
The pale man recalled him being the young blond drinking with the boss. He did not see him in the inner wing where Sinbad lived which meant he was residing on a separate house in the estate. That must be where some of the business profits were remitted.

  
"Handles the clubs?" he further asked.

  
"And a few bars. He's more active at night."

  
"Is that so?"

  
The bush near the bench rustled, then a little bunny hopped out, hiding into the opposite cluster of plants. Even outside his room, nothing much entertained the pale man. He had already finished reading the books Sinbad left in his room. Asking for more was quite tempting, but doing so was equal to encouraging the boss to treat him like a locked up bored child.

  
Ja'far sighed. If he had not been so stubborn, he might have had it better. His fingers itched to do something, anything that felt productive. He had already swept dry leaves around the yard, earning himself some interesting looks from Masrur and other servants. But the next day, everyone he asked would not allow him to clean. He reckoned it was the instruction of the supreme boss.

  
In some days he was terribly annoyed, he attempted to run away, only to be smacked down the ground by Masrur. He always put up fights that stressed the big man and bodyguards. Without his weapons, however, he could not win with a finishing blow.

  
"Shit," he exhaled as he bent down and covered his face with both hands.

In one of the evenings they were in bed, the boss asked him if he wanted to man his new restaurant. Of course, he found the question funny and amusing. Ja'far was supposed to be a captive, a liability, yet he was being offered an actual job. On a different night, the boss even thought of bringing him to the office and introducing him to his other subordinates the next day. Both times, the pale man was appalled. He lashed out at Sinbad, calling him foul names. The supreme boss did not seem to take offense, but the force of his embrace afterwards showed he always got the upper hand.

  
Agreeing to whatever Sinbad said meant Ja'far would belong to the Seven Seas Alliance and have the same tattoo painted on his back. Sinbad would be his boss, his master, and his means to live comfortably. In return for knowing the boss's secret and giving him his body, he would not need to kill anymore. And Ja'far's chest tighten up at the idea of a different life. He had been with Sham Lash for so long that he could hardly imagine what else he could do without them. It scared him. Sinbad scared him.

  
"What's stopping you from joining the Seven Seas?"

  
The pale man blinked at the sudden echo of his thoughts. Masrur had been accompanying him for weeks, but that was the first time he initiated a topic.

  
"Be in the yakuza, huh..." the pale man chuckled.

  
"Sin has legal businesses, too."

  
"I doubt he'll really let an assassin in on that. Tell me, I am just being conned to make Judar show up, right?"

  
"Will you help?" Masrur asked flatly.

  
Ja'far was quite taken aback that he did not even deny his boss's intentions. Sinbad was cunning in every angle. He was terribly confident of himself, charming others to do what he wanted.

  
The pale man looked back at Masrur. His red eyes were beady and as expressionless as always. Nevertheless, there was comfort in them. Ja'far did not need to be conscious of the dark marks on his arms and neck with him around. His intent gaze did not strike as malicious.

  
"I don't want to get involved," the pale man murmured as he peered away distantly.

  
"Then tell him."

  
Dark eyes widened.

  
"Tell your idiot boss what?" he asked in irritation.

  
"Everything you're thinking of," Masrur answered blandly.

  
Ja'far clenched his fists. How could the red haired man just make it sound so simple? If the matter was that easy, he would not be so piqued hearing the unsolicited advice.

  
Gritting his teeth, the pale man stood up and faced Masrur.

  
"That damn Sinbad has been fooling me around to get to Judar, and you're saying I should just--"

  
"Go back inside," Masrur ordered sternly.

  
"What?" Ja'far frowned, more irritated.

  
The tall man scanned the surroundings, pulling his gun out of the inside of his suit. He lips pursed before yanking Ja'far by his shoulder.

  
"You have to return to your room."

  
"Did someone sneak in?"

  
"Just now, there's a strange smell in the air."

  
Momentarily amazed by Masrur's sharp senses, the pale man nodded. Despite being usually sensitive, he could not find the alarming scent. His feet moved fast as he tilted his head to look around, growing wary of everything around him. A moment later, he heard a thud of something heavy that fell to the ground. When he looked behind him, Masrur was already lying unconscious on the grass.

  
Ja'far bit his lower lip as he stepped back. Then, a sudden blow of strong wind made him blink.

  
"Hi," greeted an upbeat voice by his nape.

  
Threatened, the pale man flinched, quickly grabbed the gun on the ground, then turned around to point at the man beaming happily at him.

  
"My name is Yunan. I'm sorry, I surprised you."

  
Yunan shocked him. Ja'far never sensed anyone else making his way towards them, and yet, in an instant, the man just appeared, smiling so widely. His long light hair had parts of it braided, the ends swaying with the wind.

  
"You must be Ja'far," said Yunan, walking forward.

  
The pale man instinctively stepped back, Masrur's gun still in his hand while studying Yunan. There was no doubt the mysterious visitor was dangerous. He was not armed yet he was able to knock Masrur out without any fight.

  
"How do you know me?" Ja'far inquired, squinting.

"Because I smell Sinbad on you."

  
His heart pounded hard with Yunan's answer. Two months was not that long a time for him to be automatically associated with the supreme boss of the Seven Seas. He was not even a member of his group. He could not shake off the growing panic that he would end up inevitably meeting more bizarre personalities after encountering Sinbad.

  
"That guy's not here. Go find him somewhere else."

  
His smile disappearing, Yunan wrinkled his brows and crossed his arms over his chest.

  
"I'm the one who turned him that way," he explained ruefully.

  
"Y-you mean..." the pale man swallowed his stammering.

  
"He drank your blood, didn't he? Seriously, I thought he would no longer drink from a human again. I'm glad you're still alive."

  
Ja'far froze. His face grew white. But Yunan ignored his distress and continued speaking in a contrite expression. It was hard to determine if he was pitying the pale man or if he was dismayed with Sinbad.

  
"You know, there was a time when he needed to be a different person to overcome his misery, and I had to help him. However, this is the outcome. Until now, I feel partly responsible. That's why I came to see you."

  
Utterly confused, the pale man looked at Yunan. The latter twisted his lips, showing him a gentle gaze. His next words sent tingling tension all throughout Ja'far's body.

  
"I can help you go back to how you used to live. Do you want to escape this place?"

  
A cold sensation pooled within the pale man's stomach. He could not understand why, but his body felt heavy as if metal balls were suddenly attached to each foot, dragging every step towards Yunan.

  
The urge to leave was so powerful, to completely break Sinbad's influence over Ja'far which rendered him helpless. He could not stand feeling that way anymore.

  
"What do you need in return?" he asked suspiciously.

  
"..."

  
As Yunan remained silent and looked pensive for a long moment, the pale man slowly lowered the gun and let it fall beside his right foot. Instinct told him the weapon would not work with the visitor before him. Masrur already proved that.

  
"I'm already late, I guess," Yunan sighed like he just concluded something in his mind.

  
Ja'far stiffened, eyebrows knitting. His lips parted, about to ask what Yunan meant, when his vision swirled, distorting everything he was seeing.

  
"Wha-- Damn it," he growled, hands grabbing the visitor's collar before collapsing weakly to the ground.

  
As he lay prone, Yunan crouched down and peered down apologetically at his sleeping face. A soft remark escaped his lips followed by a knowing smile.

  
"You're smitten in denial."


	6. Blossom 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and following this story. :)

  
The way the pavement stretched out before him, bustling with lights coming from all directions and filled with faces oblivious to his existence, gave the impression that nothing unimaginable happened at all. It was the same scene he used to wander in on the way home to his rundown apartment at the far end of town.

  
The evening air was cold, chilling his fingertips and toes. An elderly woman passed by him, then looked back thoughtfully. Ja'far sensed her momentary gaze and understood why. He was wearing only a dirty, plain yukata outdoors. He appeared like he did not even bother to add a layer of clothing in this freezing night, not to mention he wore wooden sandals which held no comfort for his stiff feet.

  
"That freak," he hissed.

  
Ja'far remembered that his vision blurred while still speaking to Yunan and contemplating his decision. In the end, the mysterious man did what he liked, needless to ask for his choice. By the time Ja'far opened his eyes, he was lying under the slide in a sandy playground near the train station. A few children stared down at him, confused and curious at the same time. He had to put up with hearing their trailing questions as he got out of the park.

  
"Brother, are you lost?" asked one boy.

  
"Why were you sleeping there?" said the other.

  
"Don't you have a home?" a little girl asked.

  
The questions felt like statements to him. The pale man crossed his arms close to his chest, trying to hide the conspicuous marks on his skin and secure his blade. He ignored the children as he walked fast and headed to the path leading to the overpass. The sun had just set when he went up the stairs, and the moment he paused to look down the highway and the landscape of the city beyond, it dawned on him that he had left Sindria after two months of being cooped up inside it.

  
He should be relieved. Ja'far was finally free from the incorrigible yakuza that Sinbad was. He could go back and report to Sham Lash the next day. If he provided a reasonable excuse, the grand master should forgive his sudden absence and grant him a job. He would definitely need one as he was sure to be fined for punishment.

  
His mind was still spinning with rough plans of how he would resume his old life when he reached the dark corner of the street. From here, turning left would take him straight to his apartment. Chill ran down his spine as he stared down the familiar path.

  
"This won't work," he muttered to himself.

  
His feet stopped moving against the road. Who was he kidding? Of course, he could not just easily go back to how things were. Sinbad was foolish, but he was not ignorant. He had most likely kept his phone the entire time and tracked his contacts from there. He would definitely look for him, and it was not difficult for the influential man to find out where he lived.

  
Ja'far knew his secret. Now that he had been out in town with every chance to spread the information -- no matter how stupid and unbelievable the story would seem -- Sinbad would not leave things as they were. Back in the estate, he had good use for him, but now his freedom held no merit.

  
Shivering from the cold wind, the pale man hurriedly turned and walked to the opposite side of the street. He recalled the first night Sinbad sunk his fangs to his skin and the first night the supreme boss took his body by force. The vivid recollection convinced Ja'far that Sinbad would not hesitate to eliminate a threat like him.

  
To aid his aching stomach, Ja'far stole a piece of meat bun sold in an open tray in the sidewalk. He jumped on the chance when the old, gray-haired man selling them disappeared inside the store for what seemed like a phone call. He felt pathetic as he ate it in the park. Anger boiled in him as he realized all of the misfortune he had been through began when he attempted to kill Sinbad.

  
It would not be long before midnight, and although he had slept out in the past, he doubted his body could endure the cold this evening. It was probably better to have gone to Vittel's or Mahad's house, but he could not risk being discovered by the underlings of the Seven Seas.

  
While drinking cold tap water from the outdoor sink in the park near a tennis court, a thought crossed his mind. He believed that none of the information stored on his phone should lead to that place. He had only been there once a long time ago, but he figured he could still get to the location. If he was lucky, the pale man might run into Judar tonight. Otherwise, he should just ask around for him.

  
Less than an hour later, he stood in front of a building not far from the hotel district. Passersby threw interested looks at him from either direction. Ja'far sighed. Indeed, he was out of place with his clothing, but he could not care less about how he appeared; he just needed to confront Judar and demand payback for his trouble. He climbed the dark stairs that ushered him up the fifth storey of the building. He strode further the dimly-lit corridor wherein the walls were identical to the old, red bricks outside. A few steps later, he found the antique door and opened it.

  
The ambiance was the same as the first time he came here. The mixed scent of cigarettes, alcohol, and strong perfumes of both men and women lingered in the warm air. Amber lights adorned the walls and ceiling, slow jazz on the background. As soon as he stepped in, the young, handsome men in stylish suits turned their heads towards Ja'far. Bewilderment colored their faces. He was certainly not a host like them, and he did not look like a decent customer either.

  
"Uhm, how can I help you?" a lad inquired.

  
Ja'far ignored him and the murmurs of women around. Instead, he went on to scan the couches and tables for the dark-haired brat. Judar mentioned frequenting this club before. The staff should know him well.

  
"Sir, do you need anything?"

  
"Tell me where Judar is."

  
"Judar..." the lad contemplated. "May I know why you're looking for him?"

  
"Huh?" Ja'far snapped, eyebrow raised.

  
"I'm sorry, we can't just let a stranger--"

  
"It's okay," called a familiar voice from above. "He's a good friend of mine."

  
When Ja'far looked up, Judar was waving his hand at him, beaming with flushed cheeks. The lad bowed in apology and ushered the pale man upstairs. It reeked of something strongly sweet and alcoholic around the bay. Pillows of all colors and sizes scattered on the spacious, dark couch and thickly carpeted floor. Ja'far settled himself a few steps away and leaned his side against the fluffy armrest.

  
"Geez, you look lame," Judar commented as he sat back.

  
He bit the pear in his hand as he studied the pale man. He chewed, the ends of his lips twisting into a malicious smile.

  
"What exactly happened that night?" he asked casually.

  
Ja'far glared, the side of his eyes gleaming with disgust.

  
"You know what happened to me," he stated in a heavy voice.

  
"You didn't return any of my calls and messages for a couple of months, so indeed, what else could have happened? You failed to kill Sinbad, you got caught, and now you've escaped. But won't you be so nice as to share the details with me?"

  
A different host brought in plenty of food and drinks for Ja'far. Judar assured him there was nothing dangerous in it, even added that he would not want him dropping dead for he needed to hear his story. The pale man took his time eating, not bothering to elaborate. Looking for Judar seemed logical to some degree at this point, but it did not mean he trusted the silly brat. He never did. Still, he saw him in darker shades now.

  
"Why did you ask me to kill Sinbad?" he said instead.

  
After a string of beeps coming from his smart phone halted, the young councillor of the Kou Clan let out a deep breath. He had been lying idly on the couch, playing games while Ja'far was eating.

  
"You didn't come all the way here to just question me, did you?" he wearily said.

  
"I also need some cash, a new phone, new clothes, and an obscure place to stay until morning," answered the pale man, his tone flat with certainty.

  
"Am I your emergency benefactor?"

  
"I almost died. The initial payment wasn't enough to cover the damage."

  
Smiling venomously, Judar got up and sat close to the pale man. He licked his dry lower lip and leered at him.

  
"You've had a bit of fun, anyway. The bruises are still fresh," teased Judar, circling his fingers around the dark marks on the pale man's forearm.

  
Ja'far peered down his vicious lips. The brat practically breathed fruit and liquor together. As the pale man called Sinbad several foul names in his head, he leaned in and pulled Judar for a languid, bold kiss. The latter seemed pleased as he closed his eyes, welcoming the advance with heat and eventually slipping in his own slick tongue.

  
"Nnn..."

  
Just the way Ja'far wanted it. Soon, the lewd moan turned into a loud, painful grunt. Judar stepped away, hunched and holding on to his side, eyes burning red.

  
"Bastard," he spat as blood generously smeared his abdomen. "Still stingy as ever, eh?"

  
The pale man got up on his feet, clutching one dart blade that he had been keeping close to his chest underneath the yukata. He did not expect to wake up with it by his side in the playground, but if it was indeed Yunan who got it for him, Ja'far wished the man did not leave the other half in Sindria.

  
"I told you, the payment wasn't enough. You set me up," he retorted, wiping away the crimson stains from his weapon.

  
"For that stupid man, it's just necessary."

  
Ja'far gritted his teeth. He yanked Judar's collar and upon meeting his menacing, toothy grin, he punched him hard. The blunt excuse was simply aggravating.

  
"You scum! You sent me to be eaten by a monster!" he yelled, shaking Judar whose eyes widened.

  
In spite of the ruckus the pale man was making, none of the club's staff went upstairs to check on them. He was not certain if they had just been clueless or if they were feigning ignorance, afraid to come across a threatening situation.

  
"So that's what happened," suddenly concluded Judar, lip swollen and bleeding.

  
Even though his wound stung and his left jaw hurt, his eyes still sparkled with excitement. A soft chuckle escaped him, then the slow burst grew into a sick laughter in between his groans of pain. Ja'far grimaced and released his hold.

  
"Interesting. As expected of Sinbad," Judar huffed. "I'm amazed you survived him. Ah, but I believed you would in the first place."

  
"Damn you!" growled the pale man, baring his blade. "You're better off his dinner. Shall I deliver you to his doorstep now?"

  
"Unfortunately, he won't like my flavor. A-- Ow-- We're disgusted with each other. It seems that he craves for you, though."

  
"You knew."

  
"Only this afternoon. One of his men wound up sniffing for you at one of my contacts' bar. You sure are loved," Judar smirked, staggering backwards until he slumped back on the couch, blood soaking his shirt.

  
"He's tracking you, too," Ja'far shot back, noting how unexpectedly tolerant Judar was with the pain.

  
"Which means we're both in trouble."

  
Brows knitted, Ja'far averted his focus from Judar. The entertainment below was not at all affected by their argument. Perhaps the men and women in their charming appearances were too absorbed to fulfill their romantic fantasy of the evening. It seemed to the pale man that they could not be bothered by yells, noises, or irregularities that were deemed downright meaningless. He envied them.

  
If the yakuza's hunt for him went on, Ja'far would have to disappear from this town to live unscathed. He had been careful of not touching his savings for another purpose, but moving away and lying low for a while was the most reasonable solution here. Bargaining with Sinbad would be futile. After a deep sigh, he shot Judar an exasperated look.

  
"You started this. Don't involve me anymore with your twisted business. That would be our last deal."

  
"Let me properly take responsibility."

  
"No, thanks," dismissed the pale man.

  
"But I've started my reparations."

  
Ja'far frowned. Judar smiled, then winced, nursing the stinging wound on his side. The slash was not deep to die from; it was not shallow to ignore, either. But with Ja'far, it was not his first.

  
"You see-- ugh-- a week ago, Sham Lash was informed of your permanent absence."

  
"What?"

  
"I ran into Vittel. I told him you're out of commission," Judar's phone vibrated as he spoke. "Come on, you can't go back to them as it is."

  
"They couldn't just agree. There was no proof I'm retiring."

  
"I have credentials. You're deleted from their roster now. The penalty was also paid. Your bosses sure know how to charge high for merchandise."

  
Without him realizing it, Ja'far's hands clenched tight and trembled. Why did everyone around him do as they pleased? His ego shattered whenever he found himself the last to know that his choices were already made for him.

  
Enraged, the pale man strode forward, rough handling the councillor by the collar of his shirt and stirring his torso violently.

  
"Why don't I just kill you now," spat Ja'far through gritted teeth, "and throw your body down there in the middle of your flirting boys?"

  
There was a curl of vile amusement in those hateful lips. It annoyed Ja'far that even his outburst was egging the other's capricious nature.

  
"Took you long enough," whispered Judar, staring past Ja'far.

  
As he pursed his lips, Ja'far blinked wide. He felt a commanding shadow loom over his inclined figure. It could have been his vexation that he did not sense anyone approach from the stairs. Or was there another person like Sinbad with whom his usually sharp perception became good-for-nothing?

  
Slowly, he turned his head, and then he looked up cautiously. Thin red eyes stared him down, like little round flames from a pair of high torches. Soon, other huge figures came walking in, standing right behind the fierce man before him.

  
Ja'far narrowed his eyes. He yanked Judar further, making him stagger to his feet. After all the shock he had been subjected to after encountering Sinbad, the intense regard he was facing might as well pass as an awkward smile.

  
"You're really crossing me, Judar," he concluded. "Bleeding isn't enough, huh?"

  
"No way," the councillor denied, grimacing. "I meant what I said. For your own sake, I'm having you looked after."

  
There was no doubt the tall, red-haired man in front of him was not ordinary. He was surprisingly neat, and his suit was exquisite, but Ja'far knew he was not as decent as he appeared. His posture was imposing, his gaze equalled danger.

  
"Surely, a high-ranking member of the Kou Clan isn't here to take care of a runaway like me," said the pale man, maintaining a hostile stare.

  
"Of course, not. Much better because the second boss of the Kou Clan will," said Judar.

  
"Second boss..." Ja'far's voice trailed off.

  
With renewed alertness, he studied the quiet man who kept on peering intently at him. Four of his big bodyguards were sneering in mixed pride and curiosity. It did not help that the slow music stopped since the entrance of the boss. When Ja'far glanced down, the customers were no longer in the club. He began to feel tense. Why would the heir of a prestigious yakuza family come for a lowly assassin?

  
The last thing he needed was to bump into another yakuza after fleeing the other. Ja'far let go of Judar's collar, tossing him roughly to one of the bodyguards who caught his body in time. The long-haired bodyguard glared at him, evidently deeming Judar as a valued superior undeserving to be insolently treated.

  
"I appreciate your intentions, but I don't need anyone's concern. Let's forget we met tonight," the pale man spoke with as much courage as he could collect.

  
Keeping his eyes low to the floor, he stepped away from the second boss of the Kou Clan, breathless as his feet moved forward to the make it to the stairs. And when he got past them, relief rushed down to his stiff shoulders.

  
But the ease did not last.

  
A forceful grip to his wrist pulled him backwards, which a part of him had sensed and anticipated all along. Instinctively, he twisted his body and, with his other hand, strongly swung his blade down as he turned back. Drops of blood stained his freckled cheek, his dark gray eyes stretched back to their lids. Over Ja'far, the blade was caught tightly inside the palm of the Kou heir. As his fist dripped of blood, he curved his lips artfully.

  
It was the most condescending smile Ja'far had ever witnessed.

  
"Let go--"

  
In an instant, Ja'far was roughly tugged forward until he was a mere breath away from him.

  
"Sinbad isn't the only one," he whispered, making the pale man flinch and inhale his blow of warm breath.

  
The blade fell to the floor, then both of his lean wrists were secured in numbing clutches. Following a disconcerting pause, Ja'far bit his lip, hoping to stop it from trembling, then he looked down warily at the hand gripping his left. Consequently, Kou's second boss opened his palm in cunning satisfaction. Chills surged down Ja'far's spine. There was little blood left, but no trace of wound at all.

  
"Are you done? It's late and I miss my bed," complained Judar like a spoiled child ready to throw tantrums. "Kouen, I need bandages. Can we go home now?"

  
"We can," replied Kouen, then he smirked down at the stunned assassin. "You're coming, too."

  
Another Sinbad, Ja'far thought in daze. He swallowed. It was like he was about to watch a new nightmare unfold before his eyes. Did Kouen drink blood, too? Would he get bitten? Was he to be held captive again?

  
The door to his right suddenly closed. Ja'far realized he had absent-mindedly climbed into the car with them. Or perhaps, more precisely, he was moved by fear.

  
"Don't worry," assured the deep voice behind his neck. "I won't suck you dry of blood."

  
Through the tinted dark window, Ja'far stared up to examine Kouen's reflection. The boss's gaze to him was ambiguous. His expression was unreadable, like something unfathomable remained hidden beneath a still surface of water.

  
He seriously felt more of a fool than what he thought of Sinbad. As the car drove past unfamiliar roads, bitterness and despicable regret stirred Ja'far's mind: why did he even bother to think about escaping? 

 

 


	7. Blossom 07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry for the long wait with the update. I've been very busy lately. 
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and following this story! :)   
> This is my second Magi fanfiction with the Sinbad-Ja'far-Kouen focus. The first one, Moonlight Paradox is also another work in progress.

  
"Why are you still here?" Sinbad growled.

  
A peaceful breakfast now felt like a dream to his subordinates who were beginning to share his dark sentiment. For the past week, the mood of their supreme boss had plunged dramatically since Ja'far disappeared from the estate. In normal instances, Sinbad would never hint nor show how aggravated he was because of the incident, but the root of his problem seemed to find amusement in breaking his composure.

  
A loud, long sip of green tea disturbed the tense dining hall. With a warm cup between his hands, Yunan tilted his face and smiled at Sinbad, still as annoyingly calm as ever.

  
"Good morning. Still have trouble sleeping?" he greeted.

  
Standing rigidly by the open sliding door in his lilac kimono, Sinbad gritted his teeth. Ja'far was gone, and having to spend the early mornings for eight days straight with the culprit was akin to insult to the Seven Seas Alliance.

  
"If I see you again tomorrow here, I will kill you," he snapped as he slid the door shut.

  
"That's impossible. You should refresh your memory," said Yunan, shaking his head. "Not to mention, you owe me a lot."

  
The supreme boss clicked his tongue.

  
"Won't you ever get satisfied with just cursing me?" he demanded.

  
"I've already told you, I merely saved Ja'far from being your pitiful victim."

  
"He's the new member of the Seven Seas."

  
"Hmm. But I believe you never drink the blood of your people. To be honest, Ja'far feels that he's just food to you. He never tried to return yet, anyway."

  
Sinbad averted his gaze and clenched his fists to his sides. Reluctantly, he walked across the hall and took his seat down the dais, looking over with glowing eyes. A blend of sighs and resigned murmurs from the generals and councillors could be heard all over the room. Until this issue had occurred, none of them would have known the extent of their supreme boss's attachment to the pale man.

  
After half an hour of unnerving tension during their meals, Spartos cleared his throat.

  
"Lady Kougyoku's personal assistant has called earlier. A private lunch at eleven in Hotel Balbadd has been reserved for you both," he informed the boss. "Would you like me to escort you there after the board meeting?"

  
While slowly chewing his food, Sinbad's brows furrowed.

  
"Yes, please. Prepare a present she would like beforehand."

  
"Of course."

  
"You're dating the youngest daughter of the Kou Clan?" Yunan asked thoughtfully.

  
"We're not that serious," the boss replied.

  
"No wonder Ja'far was conflicted about you."

  
Dismayed, Sinbad's subordinates turned their heads towards their blond guest, wishing he would shut his mouth already. They all knew such uncalled words only drove the supreme boss more frustrated with the current situation.

  
"What else do you want, Yunan? I'd very much appreciate it if you're already done interfering with my personal affairs."

  
"Haven't you been sensing a new unnatural presence in the city?"

  
"Unnatural presence," pondered the supreme boss, frowning.

  
"Yes," Yunan nodded. "I've caught wind of its occasional aura in the past couple of months."

  
"So, there's indeed someone else like me."

  
"There've been others gifted like you around. But what I'm referring to is a little different."

  
"I'm intrigued that you're searching for this mysterious being. Should we consider the sudden existence a threat?"

  
Yunan drank another fill of tea, then slightly tipped his head to the side.

  
"Nothing is certain yet at this point. Could be a threat, an ally or a neutral existence. For your security as well, it would be better to find out more."

  
"I understand," replied Sinbad, eyeing his subordinates for the unspoken order. "You're worried about this."

  
"It's an instinctive reaction on my part," said Yunan, smiling warmly to the supreme boss's concern. "For someone similar to me."

  
Sinbad put his chopsticks down and pursed his lips.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Being the least experienced in the business, Kougyoku did not much have participation during family meetings. It was already assumed at birth that she would support her older brothers and sisters by assisting them with minor legitimate ventures. Not one establishment was under her name so far, and she never knew the darkest details of their underground involvement. This was why on that particular evening, in the VIP lounge of the casino she entered for the first time, the sudden question from the eldest son of their clan startled her.

  
"I'm sorry?" she muttered, confused.

  
Seated beside her, the third eldest son, Kouha sighed while his three lady attendants standing a few paces away looked at her curiously. Only then did Kougyoku realize that she had been paying absent attention to the discussion.

  
"Is there something wrong?" asked Koumei.

  
"Everything is fine. I apologize for my manners," she assured them, bowing her head.

  
"Big Brother asked if you'd be interested in owning and running the medical center in Southern Street," Hakuei kindly informed her.

  
"Me?" asked Kougyoku in disbelief.

  
"Yes," Kouen confirmed. "Mother has already approved, if you accept the responsibility. It's about time you have a place of your own and personally provide contribution to our web of revenue."

  
Round, red eyes widened. Fair cheeks instantly flushed as Kougyoku met her favorite brother's intent gaze. Never before had she been entrusted with the opportunity to become the equal of her siblings.

  
She abruptly stood up, held her hands together, and repeatedly bowed to the heir of their family.

  
"Thank you so much, Brother Kouen! I am more than willing to accept this golden offer. I promise not to fail you. I will work hard."

  
Kouen nodded his satisfaction to her oath, hoping the tedious business management would occupy most of her sister's time instead of spending it with a womanizing rival boss. That was one issue off his mind for now, at least.

  
"The center is no more than a large clinic with updated amenities for certain clients, but I expect that you'll transform it into something much better. Choose whoever staff you like to assist you."

  
"And feel free to approach me for any consultation," encouraged Hakuei.

  
"Congratulations, Kougyoku!" said Kouha. "You're gonna be busy, but it's nice that you'd start putting your good education to use."

  
"The same with you," Koumei commented wryly. "I've been waiting for the project proposal concerning that spacious lot in the Tanzen Avenue. I thought this falls under your expertise."

  
"We--well, something came up last month, so..."

  
"Just make sure we're not building another host club," blandly said Kouen.

  
"That reminds me, about the recent operation in..."

  
The rest of the meeting centered around the activities Kougyoku was quite uncomfortable with. Although she knew how deep the clan was into the underground life, discomfort still made it to her conscience. A part of her wondered if Sinbad and the Seven Seas Alliance were as dirty as her own family was when it came to this unlawful lifestyle. During the last five platonic dates they had been to, not once did the man mention anything related to that world.

  
To Kougyoku's relief, the meeting had finally ended. She followed Hakuei out towards the loud and brightly colored grand hall where numerous men and women, clad in dark suits and flashy dresses, surrounded the several gaming tables and machines, throwing their money and assets for entertainment and the chance to gain more wealth.

  
"Seriously, that boy..." sighed Hakuei.

  
"Why?" Kougyoku asked, looking around.

  
By the cocktail bar at the far side of the hall two young men stood together, watching the crowd with drinks in their hands. One was amused, the other seemed skeptical.

  
"Judar and Hakuryuu didn't join us, so I thought they didn't come."

  
"They probably didn't feel like going through the assignments. If only Hakuryuu was an eager child like you," Hakuei said ruefully before returning her kind smile. "Are you interested in playing?"

  
"I don't think I can play at all. I'll stay around for a bit, though."

  
With that, the sisters parted as a couple of patrons recognized Hakuei and pulled her into a conversation Kougyoku felt was too complicated for her to listen to.

  
Roaming around aimlessly led her to the isolated area of the casino dedicated for smokers. She was a bit glad that the area was empty at the moment. After a few minutes of boredom in the couch though, she decided to stand and take out her phone. She had just finished calling Ka Koubun to pick her up when she moved to walk to the other doorway. Passing by a dim corner, she found herself slowing down to a halt.

  
A sensual, feminine moan reached her ears.

  
"Are you undressing me?" huffed the same person.

  
"No. I'm preparing my drink," said another deep voice, deep and flat, before a sharp inhalation then a pained cry errupted.

  
Kougyoku stepped back, only for her back to hit a rigid figure. She turned around in reflex, gasped, and thought her heart would leap out of her chest. A pair of dark red eyes glowed down at her. She inched away immediately before recognizing that face.

  
"You shouldn't be here," whispered Koumei, to Kougyoku's confusion.

  
The familiarity of that regal voice earlier did little to alleviate Kougyoku's shock. She was pulled back into the opposite path and out of the smoking place.

  
"B--Brother," she worried, moving to his side. "That is--"

  
"It'd be better for you to return home," Koumei said, patting her head once. "We will talk about this some other time."

  
As Kougyoku left the casino, she ignored the faint call of her name from a distance, her mind still racing. She shook her head. There was no mistaking that dear voice of her eldest brother. And something told that she just almost witnessed a scary side of him.

  
Nearly five minutes later, her black sedan pulled up in front of the building. Without waiting for Ka Koubun to open the door, she slid in the back and finally heaved a long breath.

  
"Would you like to drop by somewhere else before we head back?" the attendant asked from the passenger seat.

  
"No," she murmured, eyes distant. "I will dine at home."

  
On their way home, she grabbed her phone from her bag and automatically dialled on the screen.

  
"Sir Sinbad," she said almost immediately after the call was answered. "Can we meet again tomorrow?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

His irritation was becoming more and more unbearable. The pale man hardly let his guard down since arriving at the headquarters of the Kou Clan, wherein each child of the family had his and her own separate house on their massive residence land at the outskirts of the city.

  
Judging by the connecting paths, Kouen's place appeared to be situated at the center, a statement to his status in the family in spite of still being the second-in-command. Not that this insight mattered so much to Ja'far, though. He was very tired of being forcefully involved with these people; it made his head ache instantly whenever one was around him.

  
However, this afternoon was quite different. Instead of being watched and kept bored or exasperated in the guestroom all day and night, the heir of the Kou Clan decided to bring Ja'far to their century-old restaurant and entertainment house originally owned by Kouen's grandfather.

  
"Not interested?" was the flat question.

  
"I'm not into this sort of stuff," impassively said the pale man, glaring down the arm of the fluffy couch he was on. "Why am I even here?"

  
One of the girls performing a slow number of music wrinkled her brows at him, the others twisted their lips. As much as Ja'far wished to appreciate their talent, beauty, and slender frames in layers of long, flowing dresses, he could not be bothered to focus his eyes on them for more than a minute. He wanted his freedom more than anything.

  
"You're a man," said Kouen, his expression unreadable as he looked on. "Don't you want an elegant company?"

  
"Not at all. I would be very grateful if you control-obsessed people leave me alone," hissed Ja'far. "There's nothing for you to gain by making me join your business."

  
"You're already in. I even gave Judar my permission."

  
"What about mine? Let me pay him back my penalty fee to Sham Lash."

  
"Your money isn't enticing to grant the favor."

  
"Then, do you need me to lure Sinbad out or tell you his other secrets?" Ja'far snarled loudly, stunning the ladies into stiff movements.

  
"That might make Judar happy."

  
"And you?"

  
Kouen brought a wine cup to his lips, a small smirk gracing his features.

  
"I might consider if you feed me," he said as his red eyes shone dangerously. "I want to know how delicious your resilient blood tastes."

  
"Wha--" Ja'far flinched in apprehension, unconsciously balling his hands to his sides. "I refuse."

  
"For now, perhaps."

  
Kouen started throwing orders to clean up the room of scattered small dishes, to leave only the wine, and the other ladies to disappear except for the shortest one. The clan heir beckoned her to sit by his side, and she dutifully complied, willingly comforting her master with touches and smiles.

  
"I'm ready," she purred like a sweet, docile cat.

  
Ja'far blinked wide. She pulled her layered dress from the neck down to her upper chest before she turned and exposed a freckled back. Without any trace of excitement nor discomfort on his face, Kouen held her body close to, arms secured by his hands.

  
"You're not going to--" Ja'far had to doubt for just a moment.

  
"I will."

  
White fangs grew out of that parted mouth, breath muffled as soon as they sunk down the delicate looking skin. The lady bit her lip hard, trying to contain her painful groans. Her entire torso shook continuously, head lowered as Kouen sucked right below her shoulder blade, unabashed and unbelievably composed.

  
A violent shiver run down Ja'far's spine. That malicious, nerve tingling sound of piercing teeth was so familiar it brought back fresh memories of the first time he felt his own flesh break and bleed bright red under Sinbad's beastly maneuvers.

  
Goosebumps crawled his skin when he heard Kouen gulp down several times as if he was only drinking a full glass of water. Ja'far was unable to glance away from that throat, Adam's apple moving smoothly as blood passed down and settled to the stomach.

  
In an instant, the pale man felt cold to the bones while cold sweat coated his body.

  
After a minute, Kouen retracted his saber teeth from the crimson-smeared flesh. His scarlet tongue swept the length of his lower lip as he took in the mien of the frozen pale man. He grabbed a table napkin and wiped his mouth, not forgetting his post luncheon etiquette.

  
"You can go," he said. "Rest well."

  
Careful as she clumsily got up on her feet, the short lady sported a proud, genial smile and fixed herself. She bowed her head before shutting the door to the men's privacy.

  
"Human blood is common for you," Ja'far nearly stuttered.

  
"As it should be."

  
"How often?"

  
"Twice a day," Kouen replied nonchalantly.

  
Ja'far swallowed. More than another Sinbad, Kouen might as well be the overnourished version of the man.

  
"Animal blood should suffice. Once a week of that consumption won't starve--"

  
"It isn't as delicious."

  
"And so here, you have everyone as dinner choices?" Ja'far blurted out.

  
Masrur once told him that Sinbad had been vehemently against drinking from human beings. He managed to abstain from doing it for several years after he had come to fully figure out his unnatural urges, but apparently, Ja'far had destroyed his sense of control. Still, the pale man was the only person Sinbad ever fed on since then -- the ultimate exception to his rule.

  
And even when Sinbad could probably have made tea out of his blood, he returned to the animal diet he had been on. It seemed to Ja'far that Sinbad had eventually calmed down his untamed hunger.

  
"Don't be mistaken. It's their choice to offer themselves as options. I don't force my people unnecessarily," Kouen said, narrowing his thin red eyes.

  
The pale man was very tempted to create a scene and flee from the composed monster. The feeding session earlier, however, reminded him that there was no use trying to escape Kouen. That would only give the clan heir the excuse to slurp up his precious blood.

  
"What else do you need me for? I've already proven that you and Sinbad are of the same kind."

  
"I want you to prove something else before I let you go."

  
"And that is?" Ja'far snapped.

  
In a flash, Kouen was a few inches away from him, leaning down and breathing warm, moist air against his ear. The pale man stiffened, his chest painfully tight and heart pounding hard.

  
"That you can also survive in my bed."

 

 

 


	8. Blossom 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am sorry for the long wait with the update. I was so busy with school, but I'm hoping to add a new chapter in a few weeks.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading Moonlight Blossom! I may not be able to reply in a timely manner to comments, but they are all appreciated. :)

 

 

Several times had Kouen done it in front of him, but Ja'far could never get used to it. The hair at the back of his neck would automatically stand at the sight of deep red staining wet white. Goose flesh dominated his pale body with every suckling noises, every slurp on violated skin signaling the end of each meal, and the pleasantries exchanged afterwards as though a healthy business transaction had just taken place.

 

It had taken a few minutes for his harsh breathing to calm down. In frustration, Ja'far pulled the pillow beneath his head and pushed it against his sweaty forehead, blocking his eyes. Dawn was still hours away, which upset him even more. Since the vexing day that he was brought to the Kou Clan's entertainment house, he had been getting worse nightmares. And it did not help that it was the same basic scene every night: surrounded by darkness, Ja'far was bathing in rich blood with a man he recognized as Kouen.

 

His dark eyes were fixed to the ceiling as hours went by unceremoniously. He nearly did not move except for the occasional shifting above the sheets of his head and fingers. The growing rays of sunlight were filtered by a bamboo screen on the sliding windows of the room. The distant chirping of birds reminded him of how boring his entire day would be again.

 

He reckoned that in less than an hour, bland food would be taken to his quarters. And if he was unlucky, by noon an attendant would enter with a new change of smart clothes, so he could begrudgingly dress and come with Kouen for another traumatic lunch. He would then spend the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to block the mental images which lead to his horrific dreams.

 

He refrained from staying too long in the bathroom since then. Water was turning crimson as it streamed down his radiant skin because of his uncontrollable imagination. He feared that he might not be able to touch anything liquid if this went on.

 

Just as he was planning an excuse to refute Kouen today, the door latch clicked, and instead of an estate attendant, one of the heir’s giant bodyguard strutted in. He was not holding any tray nor pack of food.

 

“Glad I didn’t have to wake you up like a spoiled guest,” greeted Seishuu.

 

“As if I could sleep late in this condition,” replied Ja’far, mostly mumbling to himself.

 

“Go fix yourself fast,” barked the bodyguard.

 

“I don’t see the point in doing so when I’m simply being treated like a captive indoors.”

 

“Your presence is required in the dining hall. Don’t stall, or else the Young Master might drag you out himself.”

 

The pale man took a deep breath as soon as Seishuu turned around and slid the door shut. Breakfast with Kouen? Ja’far clenched his teeth while wearily rubbing his frail-looking hands over his face. What would joining Kouen in every meal further do to him? He already could not handle the bloody lunches in the past week; more so when he would be forced to dedicate most of his time with the bizarre man.

 

Ja’far had to something about the situation. Nevertheless, he did not like at all the dubious remedy forming in his mind.

 

"It's been a while," sang Judar as soon as Ja'far walked in to the dining hall.

 

The interior was simple compared to Sindria's, particularly with the lack of vibrant paintings and display shelves for various figurines, however, the hall was far more spacious and serene. Perhaps Ja'far was truly considered a clan member now as he was called down for joint breakfast this morning. It seemed that only Sinbad was lenient to strangers among underworld bosses.

 

The pale man sat himself in the farthest chair possible from the mischievous councilor. He neither have the energy to deal with his antics, nor the focus to listen to whatever Judar would babble about.

 

"I hope you realize that I've gotten more unsightly scars now on my stomach because of you," said Judar. "My perfect skin is once again ruined."

 

"So was his."

 

Kouen entered the hall in his dark suit, not sparing a glance towards Ja'far even though he was referring to him.

 

"Sending him to Sinbad also ruined his flesh, much worse than yours," he added, taking the head of the long mahogany table.

 

"Ah, yeah," Judar snorted, "but I doubt he's worried. He's got loads under his clothes."

 

"Proofs of survival, I take it.”

 

"Oh, you haven't seen them yet? Perhaps soon you will. Even the most hidden ones," teased Judar.

 

Unperturbed at all, Kouen did not bother to respond to the innuendo as he picked up his chopsticks. A minute later, Koumei strode in with his messy unbound hair and rushly buttoned up shirt. He blinked to the pale man's presence at the far left but made no remark.

 

They ate in silence for a long while. Ja'far hardly tasted his meal; escape plans filled his head, with irritation killing his appetite when he realized none would be fail-safe against a constantly hungry vampire.

 

"When will Kouha come home?" asked Kouen out of the blue.

 

Koumei yawned before he answered.

 

"Tomorrow evening. He's bringing a friend from Magnoshuttat City."

 

"A friend?" Judar repeated suspiciously. "I'm surprised you'd allow him to bring one into the estate."

 

“It seems he can be trusted. The boy already knows about the clan for some time. He's rather interested in how we can possibly help him."

 

"With what? Arms? Drugs?" asked Judar.

 

"No, Kouha says he's decent. He searching for his father."

 

"Since when did we engage ourselves in social work?" the councilor taunted.

 

"Well, his father was supposedly a native in this city. Kouha has returned a few weeks ago with him, but they've been strolling in and out."

 

"The elders will be bothered again with the odd son back."

 

"He's not the only odd member here," Koumei pointedly told Judar.

 

The latter just shrugged and decided to turn his attention towards their companion, who was practically absent in the dining hall. Judar arched his brow and grinned.

 

"What's the matter, Ja'far? You look paler than usual."

 

Ja'far ignored the hatefulcouncilor and, instead, faced Kouen directly.

 

"I'd like to stay in my room for the rest of the week," he said.

 

One more day of accompanying the second boss everywhere and watching his savage meals would definitely get Ja'far a fever. He never pegged him as an exhibitionist, so the deliberate exposure could only mean one thing: Kouen was slowly torturing Ja'far. Or he mistakenly thought Ja'far would develop a desire to feed him by observing other willing dinners.

 

"No," was the automatic reply.

 

"You're seriously one sick monster," spat the pale man.

 

He stood up, his plate clattering on the table, and swept past long hallways back to his room. Suddenly, he felt a commanding presence behind him which he failed to react against in time. Pupils dilating, Ja'far was spun around to face Kouen, his back banged against the wall.

 

Kouen narrowed his glowing red eyes. Dangerously, he traced the line of Ja’far’s neck with the tip of his high nose. The fragrance unknowingly emanating from the pale assassin was tickling his senses, as though he was inviting him to open his mouth and plunge his fangs to relieve the unsettling itch.

 

Ja’far visibly shivered, coiling his neck away as much as he could with the suffocating space Kouen had given him.

 

“You’re seducing me,” the heir breathed against fair skin.

 

“No way! Back off, you delusional crazy pervert,” the pale man managed to gasp.

 

“I suggest you remain obedient and come outside with me. Otherwise, I won’t be able to control my craving now. Don’t forget your position.”

 

“Bastard,” Ja’far hissed.

 

The Kouheir frowned as he removed himself from him. Underworld leaders had that power to bend people according to their will. But in addition, Kouen twisted them psychologically. Without much effort, he had coerced Ja'far to follow him once more to some of his boring trips to his seedy territories.

 

"Why are you so troubled by my presence?" Kouen asked inside the sleek black sedan.

 

The clan heir was truly provoking him. The pale man clicked his tongue, loathing nasty games like these. His insides churned with the images of his nightmare that effectively disturbed him even in broad daylight.

 

"You disgust me," the pale man retorted boldly, staring out the window. "The past week has made me realize how much I prefer Sinbad's company over yours."

 

"Sinbad," Kouen dropped the name coldly.

 

He took his eyes off the newspaper and gazed at Ja'far's profile intensely. The latter easily sensed the threatening aura with the little distance between them.

 

"Did I hurt your ego just now? Believe me, I won't be of any benefit to you, so just let me pay my dues. My absence won't even be felt. We're not even comrades."

 

"If you're that adamant, go ahead," said Kouen as he folded the paper on his lap. "I'm ready to receive what is owed to me, but I don't think you are."

 

Quizzically, Ja'far turned his head. Why would he even think twice with paying－

 

"You're tripling the penalty fees?" he snapped.

 

"Do you take me as a petty hoodlum?" Kouen shook his head, then spoke with an edge to his voice. "You know what kind of payment would satisfy me."

 

The air inside the car felt colder to Ja'far the longer they talked. If only he could restart his life, from that point when he went home with a dripping wound on his left arm.

 

"I need freedom. I don't remember wanting wounds on my body," he growled. “Why would you even want me?"

 

Kouen let the newspaper fall as he abruptly shifted. He yanked the pale man with his arm, grabbed around his slender waist and tilted his freckled face up with strong fingers against clenching jaws. Those dark gray eyes widening at him could easily suck his soul in.

 

"Because I can take you now, but you’ll still resist until the end," whispered Kouen, focusing down the pale man's trembling lips. "Puppets are boring."

 

"You're all turning me into one," Ja'far muttered, looking away as he willed his body to still from the nervous shaking.

 

The heir's eyes sharpened.

 

"You've been dreaming of me," he brushed the latter's jelly earlobe, prompting a violent shudder from Ja’far. "Last night, too."

 

Ja'far flinched. The reflex to flee Kouen's clutches was strong; nonetheless, the grip around him was also powerful.

 

"Damn vampire!" he blurted out, pounding a fist against a hard chest. "Have you been cursing me?"

 

"I don’t have Judar’s abilities. You were always mumbling in your sleep during those times I checked on you."

 

And just like that, the smell of rapidly pooling blood, its cold and sticky sensation against his pale skin, and the disturbing sounds of repeatedly pierced flesh overwhelmed his senses. He was awake, but he felt like he was floating.

 

Shaking his head fervently, Ja'far clutched the sides of his head with clammy hands, shutting dark eyes with desperation.

 

"Are you that scared of me?" Kouen studied his agony.

 

With some of his silver-white hair caught in white fists, Ja'far gritted his teeth. He was not scared; he was terrified of what he could end up in. At least, his past nights with Sinbad were full of mind-numbing sex; he had no time and strength left to be overwhelmed by pure trepidation. Even when Sinbad had bitten down the supple flesh of his body, the pale man still moaned with mixed pleasure. But something had gone wrong after he escaped Sindria. Even picturing the same bedroom session with Sinbad hardly helped his anxiety. now If anything, his memories with the supreme boss of the Seven Seas worsened his nightmares and increased the daylight haunting.

 

“What have you exactly been dreaming about?” Kouen pressed on with impatience.

 

But the pale man could never fully tell him. Reaching out his hand for support to the side of the car door, Ja’far wrenched his torso away. It was a futile and stupid attempt, though, as Kouen grasped his leg fast, taking the timely chance to pull him beneath his muscled frame. In a matter of seconds, the second boss of the Kou clan was hovering the pale man. Eyes on the road, En Shou kept driving the classic sedan at ease, totally indifferent with malice of what was happening in the back seats.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ja’far demanded loudly, sliding on his back as he failed to sit up against the cunning man.

 

“Shall I demonstrate what I think you’ve been experiencing in your dreams?”

 

“No! Don’t touch－”

 

“I believe I should,” growled Kouen before he triumphantly captured Ja’far’s parted lips that were posed to counter in protest.

 

Aided by the nearly barbarous grip of his big hands, he plastered Ja’far lithe physique towards his hard lined torso as he continued to steal his warm breath and muffle the alarmed whimpers. Their kisses was nothing short of fierce and sloppy, the wet noises obscenely resounding in the confinement of the black sedan. Saliva smeared down Ja’far’s chin, soiling his luscious image. His back arched involuntarily, cheeks and skin burning with shame and heat. His heart hammered against his chest as flashes of montage simultaneously played in his head.

 

When a disturbingly hot and slick organ trailed down his neck and collar, Ja’far quivered intensely. He knew he was an utter mess, doubling his fear and embarrassment.

 

“Stop－ _Uhh_ －” he gasped uncontrollably when a rough hand stroked his abdomen.

 

“Have you been seeing yourself naked in your sleep?” Kouen urged him on while scraping teeth against sensitive skin.

 

Shutting his eyes tight, Ja’far squirmed. He needed more air to breathe and more space to cool the fire inside him. The painful burn was not lust that was expertly stimulated, but rather, it was a lid to something frightening. Any moment Kouen might strip that thin film away from the remainder of his security.

 

“Answer me!” Kouen growled directly to his ear, suddenly startling Ja’far.

 

It seemed that the clan heir had only acted in tolerance to the pale man for the past few weeks. The rasp and commanding voice, together with his brusque clutches, indeed belonged to a man born and raised to rule a prestigious underworld clan, who probably had taken more lives than the pale was ever paid to do.

 

Ja’far jolted and bit his bottom lip before he acquiesced and bobbed his head reluctantly. And then he heard him, grunting lewdly against his reddish ear, blowing it with lascivious moisture. And next spoken words further led Ja’far down the rabbit hole.

 

“We need to talk more,” Kouen breathed. “I guess we’d have to take a detour before we meet with Sinbad.”


	9. Blossom 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waa, I'm glad to have updated after many months. Been so busy.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and following this Magi fanfic. This is my second story, after the long-running Moonlight Paradox. :)  
> (Yes, I love Enja vs Sinja that much. Haha.)
> 
> I hope you love the vampire/yakuza twist. XD I just realized that I've been maximizing a few yaoi tropes here. 
> 
> I appreciate your support and comments.

 

Of all the people he could possibly entice to himself, he ended up catching the unhealthy attention of the underworld authorities in the city.

 

On second thought, the men's dark background was not really the issue, although it did pose serious inconveniences on Ja'far's part. But what was disturbingly unnerving was the fact that neither Sinbad nor Kouen was fully human. Too much energy was expended by simply fighting off their obtrusive touches, and the sexual activities could be so rigorous that any partner--no matter how tough the physical stamina--could pass out before either monster was thoroughly satisfied. Of course, there was also the abnormal danger of becoming nothing but necessary food for their abnormal hunger.

 

"Drive to Balbadd," ordered Kouen as he sat upright.

 

En Shou turned right by the next crossroad, a route Ja'far had not accompanied Kouen to before. He had frequented the small district in the past when he used to run errands for Sham Lash a year ago. The bay in Balbadd was lined with many posh shops and restaurants, and half an hour walk from that bustling area was the corporate cluster of banks and other influential trading offices. Since the Kou Clan took over the district's commerce from the old Saluja family, some establishments affiliated with external organizations had shut down. According to rumors, this disruption of business offended the Seven Seas Alliance who retaliated by attacking the Kou Clan through one of their legal fronts. With his link to Ren Kouen, Ja'far wondered if Sinbad's claim on him as a new member of the Seven Seas was still valid. As far as the two dangerous groups were concerned, nobody on his right mind would want to get between their passive-aggressive conflict.

 

The sharp eyes of the Kou heir never left the pale man's disheveled appearance. The latter used the meager space between them to catch his breath. Ja'far held onto his shirt that was brusquely opened, buttons ripped away for Kouen's greedy mouth to sweep over Ja'far's chest and abdomen. Ja'far's cheeks were red from exertion, and his light hair was pressed to his forehead by sweat.

 

"What business do you have with Sinbad?" the pale man panted as he attempted to push himself up in an awkward position.

 

Kouen narrowed his eyes. Once more, Ja’far was pinned down his back against the back seat, his skin tingling with the wet heat lapping around his neck and shoulder.

 

"Hell, s--stop this," whined Ja'far, kicking his legs out aimlessly.

 

It turned out that move was a mistake as the clan heir slipped his own legs underneath, pulling and settling Ja'far's slender hips over his lap. The pale man desperately gripped the matting on the car floor, searching En Shou's gaze. Looking ahead, the driver-bodyguard had his phone to his right ear. He did not bother to comment through the entire indecency taking place earlier and the vulgarity resuming at the moment.

 

"I'm gonna make you pay for this humiliation!" Ja'far pushed Kouen's jaw away that did little to the red-haired man's persistence. "You shameless lecher!"

 

"I’m merely claiming what I’m owed."

 

"Damn-- vermin-- you are--" intermittently gasped the pale man, "publicly extorting-- on me-- HAAHHH!"

 

For a second Ja'far thought his heart would leap out of his chest. His eyes watered. The mark of sharp teeth on his side stung so much. Still, it did not completely wound the tender flesh; perhaps, Kouen was still controlling himself. Even so, the idea that any time Kouen might just bite him for real and relish at what he could take from him distressed Ja’far.

 

Their lewd struggle went on for several minutes until Ja'far’s body slumped on the dark leatherbackseat, yielding to the ravishing mouth and hands of the aroused heir. Only when En Shou pulled over did Kouen pause.

 

Not sparing any consideration for the pale man's appearance, Kouen dragged Ja'far out of the car and led him to a private residence beyond the empty park. They entered a five-storey white-gated mansion with a trimmed lot, which was smaller compared to the massiveness of the Kou Clan’s ancestral estate. At the spacious lobby, a few lady attendants in white uniforms bowed at the presence of their master.

 

"Shall I prepare some tea?" asked an old, plump woman, seemingly in her seventies.

 

"No need, Aunt Jing. We won't stay for long. Don’t let anyone in the third," dismissed Kouen as he climbed up the stairs, roughly yanking Ja'far as he fought to break away.

 

As soon as the clan heir slammed the door to a wide room withopen French windows leading to a lengthy balcony, he maneuvered the pale man towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He forced him to a supine position against the rich maroon carpet, landing Ja'far on the floor with a muffled thud. The long laced curtains of patterned cream and chocolate were swaying with the blowing wind coming through the balcony; the ends of the fabric were touching Ja'far's shoulder as Kouen leaned his weight on him, his strong hands fumbling between Ja'far's legs.

 

"Dirty bastard," groaned the pale man, close to resigning himself to the situation.

 

He was growing weary after every futile resistance. His throat had gone almost dry with his mouth constantly open for protests and grunts inside the car. As Kouen rid him of the rest of his garments, Ja'far distantly regretted not enhancing his physique. Against men heavier and larger than him, his lean muscles usually had the advantage in terms of agility. But against blood-sucking creatures, his frame had not much chance in close combat.

 

“Was this how you were like with Sinbad?”

“What?” snapped Ja’far.

 

While expertly removing his designer coat and next his dark pinstriped shirt with suave ease, Kouen’s focus was profoundly fixed to his helpless captive. His crimson eyes were akin to dancing flames of twin candles, restraining the pale man down on the carpet without further movement.

 

“Can I assume you were also in so much denial whenever you were in his bed?” Kouen clarified for him.

 

Apparently, his words did not serve their purpose for Ja’far was looking back with the same irritated obfuscation. Contrary to the zeal he allowed towards their obscene affair, Kouen had then remained shirtless and expectant of an actual response. He was studying the pale man with pensive interest and what looked like genuine curiosity detached from lust--whether of blood or of libido.

 

Protecting himself from the clan heir’s scorching eyes, Ja’far tilted his head towards the balcony. He did not like where this conversation was heading.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

 

“I guess I’d have to rephrase it for you. That is,” Kouen inclined his body and deeply inhaled from the side of Ja’far’s head, sending goosebumps to the pale man’s scalp and onto his limbs, “if you’d be open for a long talk.”

 

Lidding his eyes like a mesmerized, intoxicated man, Kouen kept on breathing against the pale man. He savored his fragrance--so tempting, heart-racing and palpable--with his fluffy, silver-white hair and radiant skin teasing him from his nape and the side of his neck. It was so easy for him to end their dialogue there and just sink his fangs down to nail that sweet nerve. It would be so quick to sap Ja’far of his juices and nourish himself with an exotic taste, a stubborn and resilient blood already taken by another of the same gift as he had.

 

“Ja’far,” he murmured in a low voice, suddenly so languid and intimate that Ja’far had to hold his breath for a second.

 

After suffocating him with force, it seemed Kouen was resorting to teasing and seduction; both of which were just the same sides of the coin to the pale man with their equal torment. But with the way Kouen was brushing his warm hands between Ja’far’s legs, Ja’far could barely fight off his body’s physiological reactions. His mind was starting to follow suit, swirling to thoughts he would have not entertained in such circumstances.

 

“I don’t need a long nonsense of words,” Ja’far said as he stifled a squirm. “Just tell me what’s really going on with you monsters and why I have to get involved. Why do I have to become a clueless victim of your bizarre schemes?”

 

“If you completely devote yourself to me, you won’t be the victim you see yourself as now,” said Kouen, pushing himself up to face Ja’far.

 

His serious expression was out of place with how he brusquely yanked Ja’far’s legs up and roughly stopped any struggles. Ja’far gasped when Kouen forced him to sit up to straighten his torso, lining him up against the clan heir’s sturdy chest as they met each other’s body face-to-face. Ja’far attempted to wiggle away but failed. His heated experience with Sinbad told him this position was going to be too much for him. It would be sheer luck if he could even remain conscious halfway through their union later.

 

“Stop! This is not a reasonable entry to an organization! With people like you, I have yet to find convincing loyalties and affiliation!”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Surprisingly, Kouen chuckled. Ja’far listened to his instincts and aimed a good punch to wipe the derision away from the heir’s handsome face. Of course, he was not hurt in the least bit, but the expressive amusement did disappear. Even though Kouen continued talking without evident offense, the pale man readied himself to possible retaliation.

 

“I didn’t allow you in my company so you can work for the Kou Clan. You could have your uses for Judar and our circuits; however, your loyalty would be for me alone, not my family and our businesses.”

 

“Why should I--”

 

As soon as his lips were sealed through a breath-consuming kiss, Kouen squeezed his buttocks very hard, leaving red marks with his rough hands. His hands never left Ja’far’s skin, kneading the supple flesh in a punishing yet possessive way. Not wasting any moment, Kouen’s fingers took their liberties inside him, every movement rushed or rather obligatory. And before Ja’far could even bargain for the last time prior to the inevitable, a shooting sensation struck him to his core, making him cry out in shock. Kouen’s retaliation was due, after all.

 

“You-- beast--” Ja’far could not help mouthing helplessly afterwards.

 

Involuntary whimpers and pleased groans stirred the otherwise serene room. The refreshing wind’s efforts passing through the windows and balcony were for naught as two colliding bodies stayed thoroughly coated with sweat. Wriggling, fondling, and undulating, both men were caught in inescapable passion with palms on shoulders, mouth on chest, hands on hips and moving elsewhere.

 

The pale man opened his eyes, slits in haze. His abdomen had been slick with his creamy fluids that the clan heir had already elicited from him in continuous exploration of his lithe body. He furrowed his brows, followed by a close-mouthed moan. Kouen had just targeted the tip of his honeyed shaft.

 

“Beast--” Ja’far panted again as he threw his head back to expend the lasting sensation.

 

“Don’t fret, Ja’far.”

 

Kouen caught him by his nape and drew their damp foreheads together, their heavy breaths mingling. A pair of burning crimson eyes met a pair of clouded dark grays.

 

“We’d be alike someday,” Kouen whispered into his scarlet ear. “I’ve decided to make sure of that.”

 

The sudden declaration was sobering. The pale man doubted if he heard it right.

 

“No way,” muttered Ja’far.

 

Ja’far shivered. The scenes from his nightmare--of him and another being bathing and soaking in absolute red, their naked bodies entwined as he felt a new, all-consuming hunger from somewhere deep inside him, channeling through his nerves, and making his mouth water at the sight of blood and flesh--played on his mind, like flashing movies he could not help seeing. The pale man trembled as he shook his head.

 

“No,” he exhaled. “Impossible.”

 

Speaking for the challenge, Kouen smiled as he gripped Ja’far’s sides and lifted him.

 

“I’m already finding a way to make your dream come true,” Kouen said then, without warning, pulled Ja’far down.

 

Back arching uncontrollably, Ja’far’s voice broke into a long hybrid of painful hiss and vulgar moan as Kouen entered him like lightning--fast, unexpected, and overwhelming. There was neither delay nor consideration after the impact as Kouen’s thickness went on to ram upwards with pure vigor and intensity, never allowing a pause to fill Ja’far’s hot and tight crevice.

 

“HAA! Mmp-- Wai-- HAA! K-- Guu-- AHHH-- HAA--”

 

Fingers clawing Ja’far’s back, Kouen kept him close to his chest, plastering the pale man to himself as though having even a meager space between them was bound to hurt. Unperturbed by their nonstop sensual noises and moans, he could feel Ja’far’s pounding heartbeats and heavy breaths resonate with his own. His hot tongue found the latter’s right ear and licked at it, prompting further cries.

 

“This is why I took you...” confessed Kouen before he lowered his head to Ja’far’s neck and opened his mouth, revealing his long white fangs, “...to prove that in the future, I can pass this curse.”

 

Outside the closed doors of the huge room in the third floor of Kouen’s mansion, and onto the floor below, Ja’far’s broken screams could be heard for the rest of the hour.

 

 


	10. Blossom 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Whoa, it's been a long while. Sorry for the long wait. All of you reading and following this story, I truly appreciate your patience.
> 
> The next update might be due many weeks later because of school and work. Since I'm terrible at leaving you hanging onto every chapter with this story, I also posted something I had for a while which is totally angst-free for the season. If you like Sinbad, Ja'far, and Kouen together, you may read my oneshot Banana Split (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5500376) XD. 
> 
> Thank you very much!

 

Sinbad wondered if the Kou Clan's heir would hunt and kill him now? As he leaned his back on the headboard, his eyes wandered down and settled at the fair and naked figure sleeping next to him. Dark red hair long covering past her waist and eyelashes curled, Kougyoku snuggled close to his side. She made little noises, most likely an outlet of her dreams at quarter past two in the morning. The white blanket over her slim legs were crumpled, a silk garment on the edge of the mattress, her clothes trailing from the foot of the bed to the door. The pieces lay disheveled together with Sinbad's pinstripped bottoms, dark tie, gray coat, leather belt, and purple dress shirt. The evidences of their tryst could not be any more blatant.

The rational side of the yakuza boss worried that this encounter would bring him trouble in the near future; the other calculating part of him counted on this opportunity to work his way towards a lead.

The Kou Clan had been keeping a secret. There was a strange rumor referring to their underworld circuit: something about associates entering an unnamed nightspot they owned. Said people were never seen again come one daylight after attending a series of invitational events. No reports of murder rose. The security force in the metropolis would not even sniff around their territories for missing citizens. Most likely, that was because those citizens were not distinctly registered in the first place.

The Seven Seas could hardly be bothered by the operations of other groups. In their dark world, nobody was completely innocent. But when one of their new asset in a prospect negotiation went missing on their radar, they were prodded to check. Through his sources, Drakon later on reported that the man was last seen with the Kou Clan's frontline crew in the red-light district, exchanging cards and entering a sleek black limousine. Apparently, the man was a freelancer when it came to his loyalties. Several days later, the police found a gun and personal items identified with a person of similar identity in the outskirts of the city. They did not locate a body. Sinbad had not heard about the asset since.

Out of all the questionable organizations in the capital region, Sinbad and Kouen's groups were the most influential both in legal and shady systems, but they did not operate on the same image and principles. Common people and authorities respected the Seven Seas Alliance; common people and authorities seem to fear the Kou Clan. Whereas Seven Seas was bigger and bolder, the Kou Clan was darker and slicker.

"You're up early," purred Kougyoku, her round eyes fluttering.

Sinbad charmed her with his golden smile, the sure thing he knew made women weak in the knees. He brushed the stray fringes off her forehead.

"I have to leave in a bit."

"It's still dark," Kougyoku pouted. "Can you stay here for breakfast?"

"I'd love to, but I have to work on some errands. Also, I think Ka Koubun is going to panic if he finds your bed empty for morning tea."

"Oh... Right."

They had gone to several dates all over the exquisite places in the city. But before this particular meet-up, Kougyoku made sure to tell Sinbad that she perfectly knew where they stood in their friendship. After all, she and the yakuza boss were not an item. As a young woman, she sought to be with a man, and the only other man he trusted outside of her family was Sinbad. Hence, Sinbad agreed to go through this date. He hadn't meant to go so far, though. In his drunken stupor, however, he did give in to his needs and heeded the natural urges of his body. It was a good thing he deliberately fed before their date. Still, it proved that Sinbad was indeed a "savage, monstrous hedonist" as Ja'far had called him a handful times when they were at it themselves.

_Ja'far..._

Sinbad, who had a thorough web-like connection in the entire metropolis, had failed to locate him for the past month. If there were blindspots to his network, those were areas ruled by the Kou Clan. He was beginning to believe that Ja'far was truly involved with Kouen. Not that it was impossible considering the suggestive text message he read from the pale man's phone.

Just the thought that Ja'far had run away and shared his secret to the second boss of their rival organization annoyed him. The pale man, behind his tough exterior and sharp tongue, looked like a believable soul to Sinbad. He was very certain that when he slept with Ja'far, he was the first to claim him. Still, he could not help being wary that he'd be subtly outsmarted if he allowed himself not to not explore other angles.

What were the possible sides to these, anyway? First, Ja'far returned to Kouen's side as soon as he got the chance. Second, he discreetly deserted the city (although there was no trace of any of his departure of sorts). Third, he was in serious trouble because of Judar.

Sham Lash could not have wanted him back. Mahad and Vittel did personally confirm to him many times that they had not seen Ja'far since their last stint together. And Sham Lash never tolerated failures. If anything, they would penalize and punish Ja'far upon chance encounter.

And then there was the fourth angle: the Kou Clan had dispatched him. Lips curling sour, the edge of Sinbad's brows ticked.

"--bad? Sir Sinbad?"

The yakuza boss blinked, suddenly yanked out of his reverie. Curiously peering at him from the bathroom door, Kougyoku was wrapping the hotel suite's cream robes around herself.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Sinbad grinned and stretched his arms over his head. He yawned then got up on his feet.

"I just remembered to call a purchase client in three hours about a deal."

"I see..."

His feet padded along the soft carpet towards the entryway. He picked up his clothes, and after he got in his trousers and fastened his belt, Sinbad paused to look at the youngest daughter of the Kou Clan. He walked over to where Kougyoku had her eyes following his every move. Guilt started to nag at him, nudging at his gut.

"Are you okay?"

He held her small face with both hands. The smile she gave her was so bright, one would think she just hit the jackpot in a casino game.

"I am. Please don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"You know that--"

"I know," she assured him, still beaming.

"Great. I had to ask. I don't want to see you in any trouble because of your association with me."

At that, Kougyoku's sunny expression fell. She averted her gaze as she took the yakuza boss's hands from her face and lowered them. Following a heavy sigh and a minute of uneasy silence, she looked back up at Sinbad.

"I think I have actually placed you in one. My brothers," she bit her lip before she continued, "know about my unrequited feelings for you."

Contemplating the implications, Sinbad nodded slowly. He was not that alarmed as Kougyoku probably expected him to be.

"Is that so? Ren Kouen is aware of this?"

Sinbad gestured at the bed. Cheeks turning red, Kougyoku shook her head. She covered her face with her hands.

"Not like this. I had a moment of... weakness, then I blurted out things I shouldn't. I might have given them the wrong idea. I'm very sorry, Sir Sinbad. I don't wish you any harm. Please believe me."

Interesting. Kouen knew about his pull on Kougyoku. Was that what the surprise request for an appointment with him yesterday was for? In the whole afternoon, as he waited, he had been speculating as to why the clan heir arranged for a meeting. However, Kouen's henchman Seishuu showed up instead to inform Sinbad that his master could not arrive due to some unexpected issue at one of their key branches. As far as underground management was concerned in this city, no one would believe the entirety of that excuse. Seishuu left him with a bottle of an aged rice wine and a promise of re-schedule.

Needless to say, he found their intentions dubious. Kouen was up to something. They met briefly before in a pretentiously cozy party their common acquaintance hosted. The redhaired man seemed decent and educated, but the way he eyed people gave off an eerie feeling. Right there, Hinahoho did whisper to Sinbad, "I think you've just met your match." Unconvinced, Sinbad laughed the remark off and went to his usual party business--drinking and flirting.

The Seven Seas Alliance and the Kou Clan never needed to speak about any terms before. Why would they need to now? Their territories and operations never outlied each other's. For an inexplicable gut feeling, Sinbad's train of thought always led to the rumor concerning the Kou Clan's circuits, Ja'far, and Yunan's words. _There've been others gifted like you around._ Was that not a proof that there were others like Yunan presently around?

"I believe you. It's all right," he told Kougyoku.

"It is?" she tested.

"Yes," he replied in his easy laidback tone. "Are you close with your oldest brother?"

She nodded before a pensive look in her eyes gleamed.

"Are you having problems with him?" urged Sinbad.

"No, he has always been very nice to me. Because of Brother Kouen, I now manage the medical center in Southern Street. He values my presence in the family."

"Then why do you look so conflicted talking about him?"

Her eyes widened as she stepped back. It seemed whatever was going on was new. Sinbad could read into her emotions as clear as glass.

"I do?" she gasped.

"You don't notice it, but you do. Does it have anything to do with me? If it does, maybe I can help--"

"No, no, no," Kougyoku shook her head frantically. "We're okay. Brother and I just had dinner last weekend at the ancestral home."

"Then what bothers you so much?" whispered Sinbad, wrapping his arms around her small frame.

With his golden eyes narrowing, he was doing it again. Before he met Yunan, Sinbad was certain he would never coax anyone into confessing their issues, only for him to exploit the information for his benefit. But well in his 30's, he had more than mastered the subtle skill so well. He was past the time of feeling bad about it for long.

The yakuza boss rubbed circles around her back in a soothing motion. Looking at the tub at the far wall of the bathroom, an image assaulted his mind: a full tub, steam moisture on the walls, stifled moans, and a pearly white, slender body plastered to his chest as he leaned back at the porcelain edge.

"I'm not even sure about it," Kougyoku whispered back to his chest.

"What do you mean?"

Sinbad tilted his head. She pulled back a bit to stare at him, her lips a tight line.

"Have you ever experienced that, Sir Sinbad? That feeling when you think the person you've known suddenly seems like a different identity? Like he's... unnatural?"

For a second, Sinbad's hands stilled around her back. The ends of his mouth curved, head tilting, and eyes a warm glow. He resumed his calming caresses as he flashed another disarming smile.

"Is that how you feel about Kouen?"

Kougyoku buried her face back to his chest.

"Yes," was her muffled response. "Lately-- I can't really explain."

Close to each other, they stood in silence. Once Sinbad sensed the shoulders in his arms relax, Sinbad gradually let her go. He cupper her cheek and gave him his quiet reassurance. Kougyoku's face lit up and went to clean up in the shower.

Fulfilling what they had agreed upon, Kougyoku departed first through the alternative exit of the hotel. Half an hour later, Sinbad strode out the front doors, Spartos following on his heel. The man had bribed the crew into deleting any records of Kougyoku and Sinbad's rendezvous. When they had pulled into the early morning traffic, the yakuza boss did not try to school his features anymore. The rearview mirror of the sedan reflected his perfect scowl.

Sinbad dialed for Yunan on his phone, but all he got were endless rings and repeated voicemail prompts. The yakuza boss did give him a phone so he could contact him at times like this. The man could not be too deep in sleep to answer.

"Did Yunan spend the night at the residence?" he asked Spartos.

Their car turned to the avenue leading to the main office of the Seven Seas. Sinbad could change there, take a nap, then move up his morning meetings. He would need the rest of the day free for what he had in mind.

"No," answered Spartos. "He went to visit some bars. Hinahoho asked Masrur to accompany him, just in case he'd cause inhuman trouble."

Yunan would never pull one off, unless it involved his favorite victim Sinbad. Nevertheless, it placated Sinbad to know he did not just vanish and leave him clueless the way he frequently did in the past. Sinbad called Masrur.

"Where are you?" was his abrupt greeting.

There was a mild shuffling noise before Masrur's voice came through clear and audible.

"The opposite street from Rakushou."

"Rakushou?" Sinbad echoed, brows furrowing. "That building in the northeast district?"

"Yes. Yunan is inside."

"Why did he end up in there?"

"I lost him in the previous pub. I drove around then I saw him ride a cab and head for this street. He entered the club at two-thirty."

So he'd been inside for nearly two hours. With an exasperated sigh, Sinbad rubbed the back of his head. Yunan was just as difficult as he'd always been. Of course, Masrur could not simply follow him and walk in to the fine establishment registered to the Kou Clan.

"He didn't bring his phone," Masrur supplied.

The yakuza boss grunted. Sinbad could care less about Yunan's well-being. He was very much capable of defending himself; but what really bugged Sinbad was his intention. The man who had turned him into a walking bloodsucker would never reveal their connection to the Kou Clan; nevertheless, Sinbad questioned his motive for going into a rival organization's territory without telling him about it.

"You did a great job monitoring him," he commended Masrur. "Though I'm afraid their people willl eventually notice you if you linger in the vicinity. Yunan can do as he'd please from there."

"I understand."

The call ended, and Sinbad still felt frustrated. He still had not forgiven Yunan for interfering in his budding relationship with Ja'far. If not for the man's needless meddling, the former assassin would be standing by his side as he was conducting his business. Moreover, his services would definitely extend to his bedroom.

Sinbad groaned in his palm.

"Would you like to drop by a cafe for breakfast?" Spartos offered.

"Yeah, go ahead," was the boss's absent response.

No coffee or doughnut would likely satisfy the hunger that slowly brewed in the pit of his stomach. His teeth and gums tingled, stimulated by that persistent image with heated sounds invading his mind.

I want you.

Recalling Ja'far husky voice and entranced expression was a dangerous pump to his veins. He could feel hot air at the top of his lips, his heart pounding against his chest in need. Out of all the people he had slept with, his affair with Ja'far was the most vivid and wildest he had ever had. Many of his dalliances were hardly memorable, especially the ones he engaged in when he was severely inebriated. But with Ja'far, he could probably drink a barrell and still remember everything. The pale man ignited flames in his mind and body, waking all of his sensitivities. He could make him lose so much control that Sinbad could already see himself manhandling and stripping the pale man naked the moment they would face each other again.

He could feel that burning need again--the need to find Ja'far.

"Spartos," he called in his deep, low voice. "Book my private dining booth in the Purple Leo at 1:30."

"For which guest?"

If Sinbad could not get information through the usual routes, he would have to get data from an alternative source. All it would take was a little business transaction. It was guaranteed to be a tricky and risky deal but he'd done more than that in his younger years. After this meeting, he could already consider himself the official eyesore to the Ren family of the Kou line.

"The Kou Clan's blacksheep," said the yakuza boss.

There was a thoughtful pause as Spartos met his golden gaze on the mirror. As though he had just read Sinbad's thoughts, he gave his boss a small smile before he returned his eyes on the road. Prior to this day, the Seven Seas Alliance had not completely meddled in familial affairs of other groups.

"I'd have them grant pass for Mr. Hakuryuu at the reception."

 

\-----

 

For neither good nor bad reason, Yunan could not keep his eyes off of the peculiar boy in front of him. Across the rich crimson couch he had been sitting on, the youth--no more than thirteen years old--giggled and squeaked delightedly. Scantily clad ladies flanked him, flattering the boy with fruit wine and sweets. But the food was not the reason he looked so flushed and jovial. The bossoms wiggling before him were the real cause of his giddiness.

"Are you sure you don't want to be served?" he asked Yunan amidst the ticklish touches he received from the ladies.

Yunan sported his ever amiable smile. He even managed to laugh before he sipped from his cranberry vodka.

"I'm fine, Aladdin."

He watched the flirting some more. Who would have thought that the mysterious aura he had been sensing for months belonged to this... perverse boy? As much as Yunan would like to doubt his judgment about him, the longer he stayed in this VIP lounge with the boy, the clearer the wind spirits became. Aladdin was a magician like him--a magician that could possibly create people like Sinbad.

While visiting different pubs last night, hoping to investigate, he surprisingly caught the scent of that enigmatic aura. Although Masrur was diligent enough to be on his trail, Yunan managed to lose him. He took the chance and followed the traces, thus he got into this tall glass building. To his surprise, he found Aladdin at the spacious lobby. He was heading straight for the elevator.

It was then that the boy glanced behind him and halted on his track. He stared at Yunan for so long it even prompted the older guy blink a few times.

"I get the feeling you're familiar," the boy greeted, initiating the talk.

"Is that so?" was Yunan's diplomatic reply.

"Yes, Uncle. I'm sure I haven't met you before, though."

"You're right."

"Is that why you've followed me here?"

The kid was truly perceptive. Yunan cocked his head, warming up to him despite his prior reservations. His instincts told him he did not need to be wary around the boy.

"So you've been sensing it, too?"

The boy nodded then the corners of his lips stretched. He looked much younger as he beamed at Yunan.

"I'm Aladdin."

"I'm Yunan."

"I told the guards at the entrance that you're my company."

So that was why he was allowed to enter the building. Sinbad was probably vexed now. Surely, Masrur would inform him of his activities. The yakuza boss was quite indisposed when it came to the Kou Clan. And recently, he was even more sensitive whenever Ja'far was brought up in a conversation at the residence.

"Would you like to join me inside?" Aladdin invited.

"If you don't mind."

The boy shook his head.

"My friend Kouha can't come with me today," he explained. "He's been called by his family for an important duty. Anyway, I'd like to talk to you some more, Uncle Yunan."

And just like that, Yunan had been cooped up for two hours inside the lounge reserved solely for Aladdin. They exchanged a few stories, sliding into random topics such as the delicacies in this part of town, the latest event in the central plaza, the tourist destinations they had both been in Reim, and their magical abilities. Yunan reckoned the boy was smart and sensible, and certainly harmless. He had not expected to discover another side of him, though, when four good-looking ladies arrived to serve their second helping of food and drinks.

For some reason, the boy's pleasure-seeking antics reminded Yunan of Sinbad--especially the way he could allure ladies into him. They gushed at how adorable his seablue eyes were and how cute he was. They hugged him as though Aladdin was a limited edition plush toy. Given five years more, he would be sweeping women off their feet with his pickup lines.

"So, Aladdin," he started when the ladies left the room to get their refill, "what did you come in this city for?"

"Oh, that..."

Cheeks still pink, Aladdin sat up straight, the vestiges of his boyish excitement suddenly gone.

"I'm searching for my father," he confessed.

Yunan blinked thrice.

"Your father?"

"Yes. Ugo told me I faintly resembled him, but that we both got long hair, bright eyes, and easy smiles. He says the trails of my father's aura are strong in this city."

So much for description. In the modern times, you could not look for your family with that kind of fluid identification.

"Is this Ugo your mother?" dubiously inquired Yunan.

The boy laughed. He popped a grape in his mouth, chewing languidly as he spoke.

"No, he's not. He was both a guardian and friend to me, though. Ugo doesn't tell me about having a mother."

"Huh..."

Silence blanketed the room, save for the soft laughters, music, and voices drifting in through the pelted walls. In a new light, Yunan studied Aladdin. His eyes took him in from the spikes of his dark blue hair to the alternate swings of his bare feet over the couch.

"Is your father like us?" Yunan asked him.

"He's different. Ugo says that I will know once I meet him. It seems my father has a special magnetism. He says I will feel it."

"Does your father know you exist?"

There was no bitterness when Aladdin curled his lips up. He seemed to have accepted the situation of his background a long time ago.

"I'm here to let him know."

He went on to tell Yunan how he came to this city with Ren Kouha. Apparently, they developed a friendship in the province of Magnoshuttat more than a year ago. He was aware of the Kou Clan's reputation and underground dealings. Although he did not condone illegal activities, he appreciated Kouha's offer to help. He intended to stay with him until he found his father.

"If you agree to keep my identity a secret from the Kou Clan, I will help you."

"Really, Uncle?"

Aladdin's eyes got bigger. Earlier, Yunan found his discovery of Aladdin a bit anticlimactic, but now that he had gotten to know the boy on a personal level, his opinion absolutely changed.

"Yes. Listen, Aladdin..." Yunan lowered his voice as he leaned forward, sensing the footsteps and tinkles of accessories nearing the door. "I don't want to keep your hopes up, but I think I have an idea where your father is."

 

\-----

  
For once, Kouen thought he was so close to achieving what he wanted to happen. He stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in the bathroom, inspecting the faint bite marks on his right shoulder and biceps. They did not sting his skin, but he could still feel the tingling sensation which Ja'far's teeth sent to his nerves. Kouen was certain his thrill would be incredibly exquisite if the those teeth sunk for real, and did not just latch on him due to some random bodily reflex--an outlet of the pale man's sensual peaks during their unions.

What was supposedly a short stay in his private residence ended up being an overnight stop. By the time he had control over his appetite in the afternoon, the pale man could barely sit up nor shift his limbs from lying down on the damp carpet. Kouen had to carry him down to his quarters. He cleaned him up and clothed him in his sleepwear that hung to his skinny frame.

Under the soft blankets and duvet, Ja'far had not stirred since. Eyes on him for most of the night, Kouen relished at the fullness he had never experienced in a long time. Not only did he feed on the pale man, he also tasted the best his body could offer. His mouth watered just by recalling their intense friction. Ja'far was truly an addictive treat.

With the pale man still in his bed, Kouen was tempted to cancel his work for this day, too. Perhaps once Ja'far was awake, he could spend more time with him. Of course, he should refrain from drinking from him if he wanted to keep him alive and kicking. Anyway, there was that other thing they could both indulge in.

An uncharacteristic smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, Kouen eyed himself once more. He towel-dried his hair then pulled on his cotton pajama bottoms. He walked out of the bathroom, stopped by the door, and admired the beautiful man deep in slumber on the mattress.

Warmth filled Kouen's chest, a sensation he could not quite make sense of. In a way, he guessed it was normal to be fond of this person he had been practically using as an experiment. Ja'far was a "gift" as Judar claimed--a gift Kouen would bind to himself through blood.

His feet moved forward as though the pale man's innocent presence pulled him in. The bed dipped as Kouen joined him once more in bed. He lied on his side, elbow propped up, his head on his palm. Long lashes shadowed his high cheeks, long eyes narrowing the longer he observed Ja'far.

The pale man whimpered, the small sounds at the back of his throat disturbing the otherwise complete peace of the bedroom. His thin brows wrinkled and small lips parted. His breath remained steady.

In the past nights at the ancestral estate, Kouen would hear him blurt out things from his dreams. Hence, he figured out what those dark dreams were about; all of which only encouraged Kouen to push through his plan. Ja'far survived the bites of his kind more than once. Unlike the humans he bit in only one session for his meal, Ja'far had been fed upon more than two handfuls. Surely, drops of that blood had gotten into his system, so it would not be a stretch to hypothesize the accumulation could trigger an adaptive reaction in him.

Ja'far whimpered again. Unconsciously, he shifted, then slightly facing the ceiling. His lips moved, unheard whispers passing through his lips. Kouen frowned at that. Giving in to the itch, he leaned over and pressed his mouth on him.

"Sh--"

Ears prickling, Kouen slowly pulled back.

"Sin..."

The sheets rustled as Ja'far moved in his sleep again. He rolled on his back, either hand lax near his face on the pillow. Until sunlight danced through the blinds of his quarters, Kouen kept on watching him at this angle. Scenarios filled his head the whole time. It was great for him to have gotten carried away with Ja'far, and that his meeting with Sinbad had been postponed yesterday. At least then, Kouen knew what problem to exactly expect with his plan: Sinbad seemed to have imprinted on Ja'far first.

 


	11. Blossom 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your reads, kudos, and comments. <3

 

 

So hungry; a pair of dark gray eyes opened to the black night. So thirsty; Ja'far turned his head to the right. So hot; he looked at his left. He was alone, swaddled in covers and bedspreads of red, sweat clinging to every inch of his fair skin.

 

There was weight pulling him back to unconsciousness, but another drive was yanking him out of it. A funny feeling began to fully register. It tingled from his toes, crawled up to his thighs, settling fuzzy in the pit of his stomach. Heat it was that crept upwards in his throat, eventually burning the back of his eyes. Not asleep anymore, not that awake either: Ja'far got up on his feet. The wind blew from the balcony, the lace curtains dancing with the final traces of moonlight. His eyes fluttered. 

 

The odd sensation had invaded his oral cavity. His tongue was restless, sweeping about the fronts and backs of slick teeth. He clenched them, a quick fix to the tickle at the root of his gums. He heard himself hiss.

 

Since without restrictions, away Ja'far walked and walked and walked. It was strange, though. He felt incredibly light. Everything he had passed was nothing but blurry clouds of wind. Although he barely saw the surroundings, a strong instinct led him across sloping roads and through serpentine streets. Later, irrelevant faces cast him curious sideglances and murmurs. He forged on, ignoring the white noise or thoughts of those people in thick clothings. He had not been this free in a long while. Cold air permeated his lithe frame, something he welcomed.

 

After the mindless wending over parks, past downtown, and towards the shy districts, his dirty barefeet had slowed down. His heart hammered against his chest, the pain against his ribs distinct.

 

He stopped. Before him was a massive lot fenced in well-trimmed hedges--a world of its own: Ja'far knew this place. Ja'far remembered how he had snuck in it one night several months ago. And he was doing it again. This time, however, he did not need to induce dozens of guards and subordinates to sleep with needle shots. In his trespassing, nobody bothered him.

 

Ja'far sniffed, inhaled extensively the essence inside the estate. Fragrance coming from within lured him to further enter, like invisible strings wound around his ankles. He was drawn in until he stood upon the spot where his instinct wanted him to be. It felt right. The itch in his core was still on, but there was gratification in being here: a dark room with polished wooden floors, its pale screen doors for every division shut. Exotic pieces were poised in every corner. Art hung on its delicate walls. What really arrested his sharp eyes, though, was the opulent, central four-poster bed. His palms twitched, missing the silky texture of the white duvet.

 

Then he sensed it in the silence: the sinking feeling which set in his breast. The bed was empty. The room was hollow; so, he treaded forward to open the sliding door and seated himself on the raised steps around the little private garden. His body yearned to eat and drink, but when he imagined food and water, a normal belly response was absent. He stared ahead, in a trance, until something incredibly fluffy nudged the side of his right foot. He looked down--a fleshy white rabbit.

 

Minutes passed. The full moon had returned home, the sun taking over, peaking beneath thin clouds. Ja'far parted his lips.

 

"Seeing you reminds me of a bad man," he mumbled. 

 

The animal looked up at him. It had strayed steps away, not really far from his reach. His mouth watered, as his throat was parched; he gulped. A fair hand stretched out. Under the growing rays of light, his freckled face distorted.

 

"A very bad man," Ja'far whispered.

 

* * *

 

Kouen narrowed his eyes. He blinked; the contempt was veiled. He continued onwards along the narrow hallways leading to the north wing of the riverside estate. His footsteps were heavy in the early morning. Even as he cut across the main lounge, Ja'far's sleeping face occupied his head. Unsettling: having En Shou on watch for the pale man's possible leave of Kouen's house could not ease his mind.

 

"Kouen," greeted the velvety voice that was begrudgingly familiar to his entire clan.

 

"Mother," returned Kouen.

 

The Kou Clan's matriarch sat in the middle of a plush sofa near the tall bay windows. Daylight was freely coming through. Ren Gyokuen tipped a delicate teacup to her rich red lips, then she flashed a smile; a smile which Kouen had never bought for its value ever since she had come into their lives.

 

"I'm so delighted to see you," she crooned. "As always, I can count on you to arrive on time after a short notice."

 

The first-born of the family was not delighted, not when he had a delectable waiting for him in his bed. He had been out of his residence for an hour. He did not fancy the forty-minute drive past the border of the city. And with the urgency of his stepmother's request, it seemed he would be out until noon, given there would be no issues popping up today.

 

He grunted a reasonable response as he settled across her. Silence hung in the luxury lounge as Gyokuen finished her morning cup in leisure. Kouen picked up his own, ignoring the dark green bottle on his side of the coffee table.

 

"I've had Isthnan prepare a special breakfast for you," said she. "I assure you that it's clean and fresh."

 

Of course. Bottled litter of blood before six o'clock; it did not smell human. Kouen leaned back, crossed his legs, and stared blankly at his stepmother.

 

"I appreciate it."

 

"Won't you take it now? You know I don't mind."

 

"Not now," he replied. "I'm not yet hungry. I'd have it on my downtime."

 

"I see. Hmm," she hummed, her smile growing sweet. "Judar does tell me you prefer food straight from the source. I thought the manner is rather inconvenient for your busy lifestyle."

 

"There's always time for meals as for everything in our business."

 

"Right."

 

Gyokuen stood up and went to sit close to her stepson. Her visage was a reflection of motherly concern. She laid a frail hand on his bicep, caressing it in circles with the tip of a perfectly manicured finger. The longer Kouen stayed in the lounge beside her, the lower his mood dropped. It never showed on his features, nonetheless.

 

"I'm worried about your little sister," whispered Gyokuen, frowning.

 

"Which of them?"

 

"Our youngest Kougyoku. Did you know she's been seeing Sinbad frequently in the past few weeks?"

 

"I was about to discuss it with him yesterday. Unfortunately, something got in the way of our arrangement."

 

"How bizarre to behold: a meeting of the two most eligible men in town," remarked Gyokuen, resting her head over his chest like a cat nuzzling against a big ball of yarn. "I just don't want your sister to become ruined for proper marriage. It's her image that I think about. Imagine her being dubbed as one of the pastimes of a renowned womanizer. Not to mention of the leader from our rival organization."

 

"This matter would soon be taken care of," Kouen said. "Moreover, we can trust Kougyoku with herself. Her affairs are mainly her responsibilities."

 

Unhurriedly, he untangled Gyokuen from him. He glanced down at her as he got up on his feet. What he held in his palms might as well be as smooth as the skin of a reptile. Over two decades, he still could not comprehend his father's tastes, the missing tile from the roof of the late boss's intelligence.

 

"I must make my preparations if we need the clearance done within the morning," he told her.

 

"You're so hardworking, my son. I'm grateful."

 

"It's my duty as the first-in-line."

 

"And doesn't the first-in-line need a partner to support him all the way?" Gyokuen asked in a sultry tone.

 

Kouha would have gagged if he were here. None of his closest brothers had grown warm to her. Even Gyokuen's son and daughter of blood did not seem to harbor any bonds of authentic affection for her. Kouen understood Hakuei was the type to be eternally filial; though, her disposition did not seem to extend towards Gyokuen.

 

Completely peeling the woman off him, Kouen fished out his phone from his pocket and sent En Shou a quick directive. 

 

"My brothers are more than supportive," he said, eyes on his messenger app. 

 

"What about your other human needs?" Gyokuen pushed, twirling her fingers around her little black curls. "Surely a wife can fulfill them."

 

Kouen gave her a small, quiet, and smug smile. Kouha would be rolling his eyes if Kouen relayed this conversation to him later. Gyokuen could not be any more obvious.

 

"My needs are already being fulfilled, Mother. You don't need to worry about me," he answered then steered back to business. "May I have all the papers? I have to tweak something in the clauses."

 

"Sure." 

 

Gyokuen had called on Isthnan. Her personal assistant came after a few minutes, holding three folders and a black suitcase. Kouen took the papers in his hand and laid the case on the table. When he opened it, a shiny Magnum and a backup Glock greeted him. He grinned like a predator ready for the hunt.

 

"I assume you wouldn't mind how I dispose the bodies?" he asked, his crimson eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

 

"No, dear. I leave all of the means and the clean-up to you. I just want the pests gone."

 

"Of course," he said. "I'll call you when I'm finished."

 

Isthnan bid him good luck. His stepmother kissed him on the cheek, whispering wishes for a thank-you dinner. Again Kouen narrowed his eyes when no one else was looking. 

 

By the time he stepped out of the premises of the suburban mansion catered only for Gyokuen, Kouen dialed Seishuu. The man answered after two rings.

 

"Young Master."

 

"We have a hunt. Let's meet at the usual rendezvous point. Bring the others."

 

The bodyguard laughed, the thrill in his voice clear through the phone line. Kouen could hear him barking up excited orders. Additional instructions were given, and when Kouen hung up, his phone alerted and died. He frowned. He forgot to charge.

 

Back in his coupe, he did not find his travel plug nor his other devices in the glove compartment. The car was not as spotless as it usually was. He had confirmed his earlier suspicions that somebody was recently slacking in his attendant duties. He scowled as he pulled into the road traffic. No doubt, Seishuu would hear it from him when they meet later. 

 

* * *

 

Sinbad's eyebrows were still faintly knitted when Spartos pulled over.

 

"Here we are," his assistant stated the obvious when the supreme boss did not move an inch from the back seat. 

 

After the appointment for construction materials with two purchase managers in his office, he got a call from an unknown number. Bar noise was unmistakable in the backdrop when Yunan spoke. The whimsical man never called him for trivial reasons, so Sinbad reckoned it was about an important matter; only he listened to Yunan whine about never-changing meals and dull services for guests in the Estate of Sindria, hence the demand for an early but sumptuous lunch meeting at the Purple Leo, Sinbad's fancy restaurant.

 

"I know you had me followed," the supreme boss was told earlier. "Don't worry, Sinbad, I'd let you know about my trip. See you."

 

Sinbad sighed, stepped out of the sedan, and gestured for Spartos to wait in the carpark. Into the lobby, the employees were all-smiles at him. He returned the welcome perfunctorily. The elevator dinged his arrival in the top floor, then he went straight for the private dining room in his office.

 

When the doors slid open, he immediately saw the bright face he did not wish to see at the moment. 

 

"I swear if this is just to waste my time--"

 

Sinbad shut up. He rubbed the back of his neck, soothing the tingling sensation there. A small boy in messy braided hair was standing beside Yunan, beaming at him like he was Santa on a Christmas Day. He had not met this kid before, though he felt familiar. Another prickly feeling struck his nape. Yunan smiled. The supreme boss narrowed his eyes.

 

"Aladdin, this is the one I've been telling you about. His name is Sinbad, the supreme leader of the Seven Seas Alliance."

 

The boy nodded. 

 

"Sinbad, this is my new friend, Aladdin."

 

Having dismissed the initial wonder, the boss extended a hand, which the boy took in his and shook it eagerly. His small hand was cold and aquiver in Sinbad's big and warm palm. They studied each other for a long moment.

 

"Hello, Aladdin," said Sinbad. "I didn't know Yunan has a young friend around in the city. Shall we sit down? I'm sure you're both hungry."

 

The three of them settled at the round table overlooking the view of the business district and the marina. One of the senior staff attended to their needs, serving the appetizer first. On to the main course, there was still not much substantial talk among them. Topics danced around the weather, selection of wine, recipes of the best-selling dishes, and history of the establishment. Yunan criticized; Sinbad laughed; Aladdin stared.

 

Soon it was time for dessert. While waiting for the mango cheesecake and durian ice-cream, Sinbad decided to start some personal talk with the boy. Nod and listen and smile the boy did, but he had not spoken yet in over thirty minutes. Was he nervous? Yunan did let on he grew up and mostly stayed in the remote countryside, and only recently did he travel to urban areas with another friend he had met in Magnoshuttat. 

 

Evidently the boy was out-of-school and several years from being legal. It was not far-fetched to think he was a young recruit in the underground, especially if Yunan met him in the exclusive premises of the Kou Clan. Even he as a boss had his fair share of green footmen in the field; it was not news in their dark lifestyle.

 

"So, Aladdin," said the supreme boss with an easy smile. "What has drawn you over to our city?"

 

"I was looking for my father," said Aladdin after a pause, big seablue eyes cast down the cream mantle.

 

Crossing his forearms over his chest, Yunan peered at Sinbad. That vague expression he wore, Sinbad found it strange but could not figure out. Then he rethought the situation. He must be right: Aladdin had the same ability as Yunan did. Aside from that, however, could it be that one of the men in the Ren Family was related to this kid?

 

"You see," said Yunan, as if reading the boss's mind, "his father doesn't know that Aladdin exists."

 

"Oh. I'm very sorry to hear that," Sinbad commented in a low emphatic voice. "Is there anything I can do to help you? My network is vast. You can rely on us with concerns such as this."

 

"Thank you. It's all right," said the boy, gazing at him with positive interest. "I already have the information I need."

 

Aladdin sounded amused. Sinbad's instant compassion was true.

 

"That's fortunate. You look like a nice child, Aladdin. We don't really know each other yet, but somehow I can tell... I'm sure your father will be lucky to meet his long lost son."

 

His words earned him a soft color on Aladdin's cheeks and a humble, genuine smile.

 

"You seem like a nice man, too."

 

Ignoring Yunan's not-so-subtle scoff, Sinbad posed his glass of red wine before his lips. He tipped the drink to his mouth. Just as he was swallowing--

 

"I've always wanted to see you, Father."

 

Sinbad choked, golden eyes bulging wide. Something undefinable stayed knotted in his throat no matter how hard he coughed. Wine drops stained his place at the table. After trying to recover for more than a couple of minutes, he leveled his gaze at Aladdin. The child was watching him with expectancy.

 

"Aladdin," Sinbad rasped, wiping his face. "I think--I think you're confused."

 

The supreme boss glanced at Yunan, waiting for him to tear through the jest. Yunan did not. Minutes of dead air resumed. The attendant walked in, placing the dessert on their respective mats. He seemed to have picked up on the sudden change from the light, amiable mood a while ago. He left without asking customary questions.

 

When the door was shut, Sinbad poured himself another glass, this time full to the brim and knocked it back without interval. He studied Aladdin. He could not find a single resemblance; or was that simply denial on his part? How could that be, when he had never impregnated anyone? Or was that a mistaken train of thought since nobody had claimed anything to him until now? Sinbad had to clear up the misunderstanding.

 

"Are you sure that--"

 

"What did your senses say?" Yunan interjected once again, addressing Aladdin. "Ugo told you that you'd know."

 

Aladdin held a trembling hand to his chest, gripped the fabric over it. He nodded, eyes a solid light towards Sinbad. That look of resolve. It caught Sinbad.

 

"I feel it," confirmed the child, facing the supreme boss. "The whispers of spirits have grown excited and loud since you stepped into the room. Even as we speak, they're hovering in the air. Ugo and I call them rukh. I can hear them like Sir Yunan does. They tell me that you're the one."

 

"This Ugo is your mother?" abruptly questioned Sinbad, brows furrowed, cold sweat trickling from his forehead. "I don't remember encountering an Ugo in my life."

 

The boy chuckled, shaking his head.

 

"I haven't a clue about my mother. Ugo said my conception is not as simple as that of humans'. I understand it now. You're quite a unique man, Father. Your aura is rare, unparalleled said the spirits."

 

"I see."

 

What Sinbad really saw, he was not sure. He cleared his throat, leaned his elbows forward across the mantelpiece, slightly dipping his head to focus on his... son?

 

"Have you ever heard of DNA tests?" he asked him seriously.

 

Blinking, Aladdin cocked his head. Yunan sighed as he devoured his dessert.

 

"Why?" snapped Sinbad at the man. "It's reasonable. Not that I don't believe in your kind; even so, to explain that I'm his father, it's quite... fantastic to hear about."

 

"Indeed a paternity test is reasonable," replied Yunan, mouth half-full. "With your history, it's just so like you, Sinbad. Well, you're the top banana. No surprises there. Listen, Aladdin. You're fine. Your father just wants an official document, a certificate to prove your blood relations in case his minions demand it."

 

Enlightenment fell over the kid. The corners of his mouth curved.

 

"I don't mind," Aladdin said, a lilt in his voice. "Anything is all right as long as it doesn't complicate things for you, Father."

 

Sinbad simpered, the edge of his brow twitching. His fingertips were shy of shaking. 

 

"Please don't call me 'Father'," he said.

 

The boy's shoulders slumped.

 

"I'm sorry," Aladdin mumbled.

 

"Geez," huffed Yunan then addressed Aladdin. "Sinbad means he'd prefer another term. Referring to him as 'Father' hints at his age. At least, that's what he thinks. It's not like the threads of gray in his hair are--"

 

"Yunan," sharply warned Sinbad.

 

The bastard; Sinbad was certain he did not have any gray hair yet, having just checked this morning before he left the hotel. He was still decades away from having one. Shifting in his seat, Aladdin fidgeted then all of a sudden raised his face as though a bulb lit up in his head.

 

"Then can I call you Daddy? Dad? Papa? Uhm, Boss?" he continued, and when Sinbad still did not answer, he tried, "Sinbad?"

 

"Sinbad would be cool," quickly approved the supreme boss despite Yunan's look of disbelief. "Isn't it better that we're informal to each other? That makes us sound less distant, don't you think?"

 

"I guess," drawled Aladdin, darting suspicious glances at Yunan.

 

"Well, then," announced Sinbad as he stood up and buttoned his suit jacket, "I must make a few calls to my associates. I'll leave you two to your desserts then return here for tea. Please excuse me."

 

Without waiting for their responses, he took out his handkerchief, wiped the sweat beading at his forehead, and stalked off to his office washroom. Once the door had closed behind him, he ran cold water from the faucet and splashed some to his face.

 

Examining his reflection on the counter mirror, Sinbad groaned. Chants echoed in his head: "Father, father, father." Badr had been his beloved father, a man he admired and cherished; the noble man had had strong principles against deceptions, debauchery, violence, and outlaws. Although Badr and his family conducted a small-scale livelihood within the red light district, he himself had never been involved in anything immoral and questionable. It was probably his good fortune that he did not live long enough to witness his only son grow up and end up embodying all that he avoided and hated in his lifetime.

 

Then out of the blue, Sinbad already had a son of his own--possibly, he added in his cogitation. He groaned again. Muttering curses under his breath, he rung for Spartos. His Rolex told him it was still 12:20.

 

"Boss," was the automatic response.

 

"Tell Hakuryuu our meeting will have to be moved to another day."

 

"I understand."

 

"Contact Yamraiha and Sharrkan. Have them stand in for my appointments later and tomorrow morning."

 

"Texting them now."

 

"Thank you, Spartos." An unusual beat, then the supreme boss inquired, "Is Drakon at home?"

 

"Yes, he is. I was just off the phone with him. Of course, everything's good at the estate."

 

"Great," said Sinbad, sighing before he continued: "Call him again. We have another guest coming with me."

 

"Sure. Uh, may I ask who?"

 

"My son," Sinbad said, kneading the gap between his eyes.

 

His people would be having a field day. 

 

 

 

 


	12. Blossom 12

 

Their young master slid into the backseat of the black SUV. Kokuton looked at him from the front passenger side and handed in his phone. One inquisitive lift of Kouen's eyebrow, then Kokuton nodded. Seishuu eyed the boss from the rearview mirror. 

 

Without sparing any word, Kouen finished buttoning up his dirty shirt and took the call he was not able to receive earlier due to their messy preoccupation. A quick snatch: it confirmed his guards' suspicions. 

 

"How is he?" Kouen said in a curt, gruff voice to En Shou on the line.

 

The bottle of blood gifted to him five hours ago was already empty, set aside at the corner. Kouen barely felt the liquid pass through his throat before the fights. The energy he had burned during the long rounds of dispatch was far more than the worth of blood fuel he had chanced upon their knocked-out enemies--slick, arrogant, and foreign rival smugglers that recently sabotaged two major deals headed by Gyokuen, making her lose filthy millions in the process. In this ambush hunt for snitches and trespassers, Kouen and his men were worked to the bone. The supplied ammunition were not enough. In the end, his insides grumbled; his head throbbed; his whole body was restless. And then this--crimson eyes glinted dangerously as he listened to En Shou's report. Seishuu and Kokuton exchanged looks of comprehension.

 

"Since when?"

 

Kouen had several more questions but kept them at bay. En Shou was a careful watch. He could be relied upon instant operations which required a massive coverage. He would not miss security breaches in Kouen's private residence.

 

"We'll meet you at the house," said Kouen before he hung up. "Kokuton."

 

He returned his guard's phone since his was still battery dead. The silence stretched on for nearly ten minutes. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Seishuu gripping and ungripping the steering wheel. Finally, a sweaty Gaku Kin had turned up from the street corner, darted towards them along the curb, and boarded the rear, setting the heavy bags full of hard cash there with him. Kouen waved his hand off then Seishuu drove away. 

 

None of his men initiated conversation. They were exhausted from today's dealings and probably starving by now, too; only their hunger did not match his. How many humans would the clan heir need to feed on tonight? With his current state, one or two would not suffice. Just as he was about to bark the orders, Seishuu spoke.

 

"Your dinner has already been arranged, Young Master. Five dishes and a spare for dessert."

 

Well, the man was really trying after the scolding he had received from his boss this morning. Kouen appreciated that. Still, his mood continued to plummet. Even ten dishes would not be as satisfying as it used to be on festive occasions. Drinking from Ja'far last night proved to be a curse than a blessing. Since Ja'far would not be presently accessible to his immediate needs--thanks to the untimely and despicable mission he had just accomplished for his stepmother--Kouen would have to content himself with blandness of increased quantity.

 

"I'd need the same set for breakfast. Fair ones would be preferred," grunted Kouen.

 

"Noted," said Seishuu, blinking briefly. "Also, Master Koumei has just called."

 

"Let him know I won't be in the ancestral home for a while."

 

"Will do."

 

Soon Gaku Kin picked up on the atmosphere. Whatever En Shou had reported to their boss, it was bad news. When Gaku Kin was done with securing their equipment and other weapons into the leather bags and cases, he cleared his throat. 

 

"I'd be taking a walk downtown this evening after our meeting. Is there anything I can get for you, Young Master?" offered Gaku Kin.

 

He was answered with nothing for the next half an hour. Kouen brooded and mused about the mystery at hand.

 

No signs had manifested at all from their successive couplings yesterday; Ja'far smelled completely human as he slept; he was not feigning unconsciousness. When Gyokuen rung Kouen before five o'clock, the pale man was busily dreaming in his bed, the noises and shallow breaths he made meaning fatigue and nigh-fever.

 

A discreet and delayed onset? Should Kouen have waited for Ja'far to wake up? Would it have been wise to ignore the urgency of this damn assignment? Once again, their clan matriarch ruined his most-sought-after chances: first, the head position of the clan following his father's death, and now, the fruit of his bloody labor. It was like waiting in the best seat for the most wonderful movie of his lifetime to start only for shitty power to blackout. Instead of continuously rebelling, Hakuryuu should start taking over the squalid duties in their family. Gyokuen better stop treating Kouen as her convenient mercenary after this event, or he might just as well treat her as food--family ties be damned.

 

Gritting his sharp teeth, Kouen grimaced and growled. He was no different from a famished wolf at the moment. They were still twenty minutes away from the boundaries of the city. As if on cue, Seishuu hastened the drive.

 

"Track all strange occurrences from 5:00 a.m. onwards in the metropolis," Kouen told Gaku Kin, sharp eyes on the insignificant sceneries through the tinted window. "Disappearances. Fatal injuries. Murders. I want every file on them. Check the whereabouts of possible assailants."

 

"Not a problem. Would that be all?"

 

"Take En Shou with you. Call me as soon as you get an insight I'd favor."

 

"Yes, Young Master."

 

"Master?" risked Kokuton. "What if it's not in your favor?"

 

"Fetch Judar."

 

* * *

 

Everyone crowded around Aladdin. Polite boy that he was, he beamed and chuckled back at them, entertaining questions and listening to various musings. Yamraiha seemed to have an instant soft spot for Aladdin, even when he looked up at him with unusually dreamy eyes.

 

Clad in dark blue kimono, Sinbad remained cross-seated at the dais, quaffing glass after glass of premium whiskey. Hinahoho sighed.

 

"Take it easy."

 

"I don't look like him at all," said Sinbad.

 

Hinahoho studied his boss's features, raised his brows, then stroked his stubbled chin.

 

"Hmm," he let out. "Actually, I can see a few resemblances."

 

Taken aback, Sinbad snapped his head towards him. He anticipated their amusement in the situation; however, he did not expect them to be this receptive to the idea of his "son" suddenly showing up out of nowhere. From the moment he had let Aladdin in the estate, his generals and men welcomed him as though a long lost family member had finally appeared. Of course, their first inquiry was: "Is your mom with you?"

 

"He definitely has your charms," said Yunan.

 

The vagabond sipped from his sake while he watched the interaction. After their probing, the adults gathered back to the low tables, ready to discuss theories that were likely about the boy's half-roots. Cozily settled at the engawa, Alibaba and Morgiana were chatting animatedly with Aladdin. The breeze coming through the open sliding doors of the hall from the back gardens carried off their giggles and pleasant causeries. The three youngsters had hit it off immediately.

 

"The paternity test is still on the table," Sinbad told Hinahoho. "I don't see any problem, and Aladdin has agreed anyway. If he's staying with me, might as well present the proof to the leaders' meeting."

 

"Right. After all, once the relation is proven, he'd be your legal heir that other associate bosses would acknowledge. Your voting rights in the board and shares in the exterior and interior systems would be his at the appropriate time. In addition, you'd have to set up a bank account for his needs and future education."

 

Sinbad frowned. Legal heir? If Aladdin were indeed his son, would he be passing this kind of life he was leading to him? Would he allow Aladdin to grow up in the underground environment? The supreme boss eyed Yunan. 

 

"Is Aladdin really like you?" he demanded, the easy humor in his demeanor absent.

 

"Yes," was Yunan's solid reply.

 

Although oblivious to the rest, Yunan could vividly see Aladdin's aura hovering in the air: gentle yet distinct, bluish-white yet pure. It had a similar wavelength like that of Sinbad's and the same nature as Yunan's. As to how Aladdin's nature became possible, Yunan had yet to figure out. Beside him, Sinbad guzzled alcohol then huffed. He was usually a happy drunk.

 

"Does he understand what it is that I do?"

 

"Ah, look at you," crooned Yunan. "You're already concerned about his expectations like a normal father. Believe me when I suppose your child is a nice boy. He's not going to cringe about your business. Moreover, he's good friends with Ren Kouha of the Kou Clan. You can't expect him to have no idea about the workings of people in organized crimes."

 

"If I'm truly his father," hotly emphasized Sinbad, fists clenched, "it's going to be a different story. My own father wouldn't approve of the entire Seven Seas Alliance."

 

"Then communicate. What if Aladdin wants to be involved? For all we know, he might have already done a few tricks in the past. Plausible since his company isn't an innocent boy. Ren Kouha is a junior agent for his elder brothers. And here, Alibaba Saluja also started very young. Alibaba is not that bad."

 

"Alibaba is not my son."

 

"Precisely," agreed Yunan. "And Alibaba is not the same kind as your son, whether you're in denial about the fact or not. We aren't as simple as ordinary humans, Sinbad. Don't forget that."

 

Hinahoho scratched the back of his head. Put his boss and Yunan in the same room, and an hour would never last without them bickering or arguing. Howbeit, Yunan had a point. Not that Hinahoho did not empathize with Sinbad. He himself was a dad to many children, and it took effort to make them digest the nature of his chosen career. Fortunately, his wife was there to back him up every step of the way. Perhaps this is the part where fatherhood was going to be extra-challenging for Sinbad. This was why he kept on urging him to take on a long-term partner. But an aversion to commitments and securing his own line had always been an issue to the supreme boss.

 

"Be honest with me, Yunan," Sinbad said in a low, grim tone, which was audible only to the three of them. "I assume Aladdin has your abilities. Can I also conclude that he has the power to turn others into the way I am?"

 

"I think so," was the deadpan response.

 

"You think so," repeated the supreme boss, unimpressed.

 

"Hm, should we check?"

 

"Dammit, Yunan. He can't create another me!" growled Sinbad.

 

In a blink of an eye, the hall fell quiet. All eyes were on the boss. Aladdin's eyes, specifically, were big on him. Gingerly, Hinahoho got up on his feet and plastered a wide smile on his face. He laughed and gestured awkwardly with his hands.

 

"Relax, guys. Our boss is talking about one of the obnoxious heads from the other group. You know."

 

"Ohh," drawled Sharrkan, facing Aladdin to whisper: "Your daddy has many competitors in the business who are trying hard to be as cool and awesome as him. However, our big boss is one of a kind. The competition is just annoying sometimes."

 

"That's tough," Aladdin nodded.

 

And so the social noise continued. Yunan directed a chastising gaze at Sinbad. Sinbad rubbed his face with both hands. 

 

"Have you eaten yet?" inquired Yunan.

 

"Yeah, haven't we all?" absently answered the supreme boss.

 

"Boss, I think he means the other, uh, eating," supplied Hinahoho as he sat back down.

 

Sinbad raised his face, the spike in his composure already placated.

 

"Yesterday morning."

 

"When was the last time before yesterday morning?" pressed Yunan.

 

"Wednesday night."

 

"Prior to Wednesday?"

 

"Monday."

 

"Before Monday?"

 

"Sunday," spat Sinbad. "Since when does it matter to you? You never sent postcards asking about my diet, did you?"

 

"Surely you notice the change in frequency," said Yunan. "Animal blood once a week used to be adequate for your physical needs. Are you hungrier than usual?" 

 

"Lately," confirmed Sinbad, brows furrowed.

 

"You're cranky and emotionally exposed to the right stimuli. Though we can attribute that to your shock due to the present circumstances."

 

A pause, then Sinbad took a deep breath. Needless to point out, he had contemplated about the changes.

 

"It started after I've had my taste of human blood again. It's been many, many years without it until I encountered Ja'far."

 

"Are you craving it now?"

 

"No, but--" Sinbad gulped then turned to Hinahoho. "Why do I have a raw meal waiting for me in my quarters?"

 

"Maybe Pisti did it again to make you agree to another of her petty requests," said Hinahoho. "I don't think Drakon instructed her."

 

That could be it, then. The blood of a rabbit wafting around the residence from his rooms. Silly Pisti. What could she want this time? A two-week holiday abroad so she could meet up with five different boyfriends? 

 

"And here I was thinking you couldn't be bothered with food anymore," commented Yunan.

 

"'Course, I would be. I've been smelling the nearly dry scent since we arrived home. I just can't," the supreme boss glanced at Aladdin, lowering his voice, "attend to it."

 

"'Course," Yunan replied. "Is that all you could sense?"

 

Sinbad narrowed his golden eyes.

 

"Is there something else?"

 

Yunan shrugged.

 

"Nothing worth fussing over. I'm just sensing your son is privy to neither the existence of your gift nor the method to bestow the gift," said Yunan, adding: "Yet."

 

"I'd prefer it that way," grunted Sinbad. "I don't need another 'Yunan' to deal with."

 

He shifted in his spot as Aladdin approached. The boy kneeled in front of him and bowed--the deferential act of a new general in the alliance. Aladdin did know a few things about their customs, or he was taught just now.

 

"You don't have to do this," said Sinbad when Aladdin had sat comfortably across him. "If we're family, we're basically equal. As I've said, the more informal we are to each other, the better I'd feel."

 

"All right, Sinbad."

 

The supreme boss grinned, a genuine one. A pang of discomfort struck in his chest. Soon he might have no choice but to disclose the enormity of his identity, power, and influence to Aladdin.

 

Sinbad did not want the boy at this time of his life, although he knew that when it came down to it he would never push Aladdin away. The spiral process sucked. It sucked to stress about the approval of one's kin, to constantly trouble oneself about their welfare, and to recover from despair when one had been inadvertently compromised. 

 

Sinbad filled his glass.

 

"Hey, Aladdin. Have you already tried drinking alcohol?"

 

* * *

 

Although it was close to midnight, Aladdin took a cab and went back to his friend Kouha's pad, to stay with him for the rest of the weekend. Aladdin was not yet his confirmed son, but a part of Sinbad wished to teach the boy about the clever choice of companions; hence, he warned him to keep the truth of his roots to himself for the mean time. With Yunan's intervention, Aladdin promised to do so.

 

And just like that, Yunan left in the middle of the night once more to wander around the city, this time allowing Masrur and Morgiana to openly accompany him. Sinbad was content to remain at home, drinking a pot of coffee and engaging in a long discussion with his lawyer through the landline of his office.

 

Most of his responses were distracted. That distinct smell had been toying with his senses through the lifting haze of intoxication. Dry blood was still blood. He was controlling the urge to dash into his quarters, so he could test the resistance of his body. But Yunan had been right. Sinbad was easily hungry or thirsty for something real and red in the past days. No quality of wine nor meat nor rich desserts could equal the gratifying taste and fullness of blood, especially human blood--no, Ja'far's blood.

 

A tip had reached his circuits that a new young man had been seen tagging along Kouen's trip in his establishments. It never took much to guess who it could be. Sinbad scowled as he headed for his rooms. Pondering over Ja'far's intentions only left him persistent itch.

 

Past the door to his quarters, Sinbad stopped. There had been somebody else inside, and it was not just Pisti. Inexplicable but rarely erroneous, his beastly instinct notified him, triggering his danger reflex. He padded quietly until he was in front of his perfectly neat bed.

 

Arresting and familiar fragrance: it was not the supposed meal.

 

Hot, moist breath escaped Sinbad's lips. His veins pulsated; his blood heated up immediately; his heart pounded. The sliding door to his private garden was left ajar. When he got close, light gleamed across eyes.

 

Trails of maroon blotches and sprinkles of fur were on the wooden floors. Fragments of the glass figurine that used to be on his nightstand were scattered. Carcasses of bunnies were lying sideways, body intact but wounded, nonetheless. Standing over them, he could tell the draw for their blood was clumsy, amateur, unplanned. Closing his eyes briefly, Sinbad turned to gaze at him.

 

Curled up against the dark recess, blending with the shadows, Ja'far looked back up at him--eyes clear and virtually glowing. He had searched all this time, now the pale man had come to him as silent and unexpected as it had been the first time. He was not here to kill him again, was he?

 

Sinbad squinted at the notable smears on his fair, thin arms and the dried trickle across his chin. Gritting his excited teeth, the supreme boss's stomach churned, a prickling sensation washing over his nerves. He jumped at him.

 

"Did Yunan change you?" he barked, his fingers around Ja'far's shoulders in a vice-grip.

 

Looking entranced, Ja'far parted his lips, exhaling erratically. His proximity with Sinbad seemed to upset him. But his behavior, the way he breathed and stared, Sinbad recognized this. He had once been like this. Cussing, he shoved him, back against the post.

 

"Answer me," icily hissed Sinbad.

 

Ja'far swallowed, shook his head minutely.

 

"What are you really up to? Did the Kou Clan send you again?"

 

Because if the Kou Clan did, no matter how much Sinbad gravitated towards Ja'far, he would not hesitate to eliminate him. The security of his organization and affiliates was top priority. Perhaps he should have heeded the concerns of his generals: Ja'far might be a serious threat--more evidently right now since he had infiltrated the estate without making anyone unconscious or spiking alarms. Sinbad doubted his people had noticed a thing. He glowered. On second thought, the impish Yunan probably did. 

 

"No," croaked Ja'far, wrapping his trembling hands around Sinbad's wrists, his breathing labored. 

 

"So out with it!" bellowed Sinbad, smacking him up against the post. "Your purpose!"

 

"N--need you--" Ja'far stuttered, "Help me."

 

Sinbad blinked, unable to make sense of this development. His face must be a puzzle to Ja'far when he loosened the hold he had on him.

 

"Not enough," groaned the pale man, his freckled visage twisting in visible misery, tugging at Sinbad's heart. "More. Please."

 

Intrigue and confusion infused into Sinbad's burning appetite. This scene required a steady state of reason. He had to absorb the details of the current situation and fight the lingering whispers of temptation. Chills ran down his spine.

 

"Ja'far," he broke the unsettling silence, enunciating every word: "Tell me what you are."

 

It was almost a whimper when the pale man responded.

 

"I'm not sure."

 

"When did you feel it?" demanded the supreme boss, then amended the question. "When did you begin to feel... thirsty?"

 

The pale man was sweating profusely. He looked Sinbad up and down, eyes half-lidded, like he was high on alcohol or chemical.

 

"Since I woke up, after I dreamed of you."

 

Sinbad inhaled sharply, tugged down at the pale man's collar, ripped his sweater from neckline to shoulder. There he found the lead to the answer he wanted--bite marks. Several of them. And bruises around the prominent punctures on his pearly skin. Brusquely, he turned Ja'far around, pressed his cheek against the hard wood, and tore the fabric from his back. In a split-second the pale man's upper body was bare for the supreme boss's scrutiny. 

 

"Who has been biting you?" Sinbad growled into his ear, eliciting a breathy mewl.

 

"K-Kouen," whispered Ja'far.

 

A pair of flame-like, golden eyes examined his back. When the supreme boss's vision fell to the conspicuous finger-grip marks on his slender hips, Sinbad let out another growl.

 

"Sinbad," moaned Ja'far, oblivious to the other's concern. "I don't know what to do."

 

Even Sinbad did not know what to do, or rather what was the immediately best thing to do. Sinbad stepped back, chewing his bottom lip. Ja'far was shaking, hyperventilating.

 

"Don't move," the supreme boss ordered. "I will find you a quick-fix."

 

"Okay," mumbled the pale man.

 

Several minutes had passed, Sinbad remained where he was cautiously standing behind Ja'far. Those frail, white fingers latched onto the post, lacking control. Sinbad had to make animal blood suffice for him. Mistake it would be to introduce a real novel taste.

 

He turned back, Ja'far's frame landed on him like a dropped sack of sand. They struggled against each other, limbs contesting for dominance as they fell out to the flower bed. Sinbad was thicker, broader, and more stable, but Ja'far was far too agile as a result of his drive. Uncoordinated rolls and kicks and slams followed; Sinbad barely managed to get the upper hand while he lay on his side on the grass and pebbles. 

 

"Fuck," he spat as he squeezed his arms across Ja'far's chest and folded arms to stop him from flailing any further. "Won't you help yourself calm down, dammit?"

 

"Sin, Sin," rasped Ja'far, craning to face Sinbad.

 

Since his movement was limited, Ja'far resorted to a trick that was difficult for the supreme boss to resist: he licked his lips in a slow, obscene caress then went for a sloppy kiss. Sinbad was taken aback. Ja'far squirmed and wriggled enough to aggressively straddle Sinbad.

 

"Ja'far--"

 

Goosebumps erupted on Sinbad's body from scalp to toes. Those soft, wet lips devoured his like any second was a matter of life-and-death. His cock stirred in his pants despite the commotion. And then the inevitable happened--Ja'far bit down Sinbad's bottom lip, hard enough to cut. From that moment, it was a mess for the rest of the evening.

 

The miniscule burst of blood was the spark that ignited it all. Sinbad pushed the pale man away, yelling at him to grab the handle of human rationality, but desperate men were ever untimely deaf and dogged. Panting heavily, Ja'far clung to Sinbad much more like a wanton lover, scratching him with his nails, planting his dull teeth to his muscled shoulder, producing carnal noises from his throat. Amid their row, Sinbad expected a sting, the fierce breaking of skin. There was nothing like that. Pain registered, only because skin and little flesh got caught between human teeth.

 

The supreme boss's hold had slackened a bit. Ja'far was not strong enough; Ja'far was not yet capable enough. Still, he drew back then attempted to pierce through Sinbad, again and again. The more he tried, the less wild he became in Sinbad's arms. The helplessness of his plight frustrated the pale man.

 

Drakon's booming voice rang from the entrance of his quarters. Before he could step any further inside the central room, Sinbad interrupted as he winced at the insistent bite to his flesh.

 

"Stay back," roared Sinbad.

 

"But we heard noises--"

 

"I am occupied," he ordered, eyes narrowing through another vicious bite to his opposite shoulder, which had forced a shallow wound. "Don't you dare enter and disturb me!"

 

"Are you sure--"

 

"Go, Drakon! I won't repeat myself."

 

"A-as you wish," was the reluctant reply.

 

Retreating footsteps were compliant though hesitant. Drakon's words were muffled as he spoke to others outside of Sinbad's quarters. 

 

Exasperated, Sinbad sighed, while the pale man in his arms, whose mouth latched on him still, was quivering now. His mewls were growing hoarse and loud as his hot tongue lapped at Sinbad, his lithe body mellowing into surrender. Sinbad could not help feeling sorry for him. It must be this futile with the bunnies as well.

 

Sinbad sat up, moving Ja'far with him. The latter held onto the tiny trace of blood on his shoulder like a desperate puppy, leaving drool over his tan skin.

 

"Give it up, Ja'far," snapped Sinbad.

 

"No," he sobbed. "I can't-- Nnom--hmmm-- Need more-- Hmp--"

 

"You can't!" yelled the supreme boss. 

 

Grunting, Sinbad grabbed Ja'far, cupped his jaws, pressing rough fingers against his cheeks. Tears had welled up in those lovely, dark gray eyes under alluring lashes.

 

Fervently the pale man shook his head. His chest rose and fell as though he had ran miles. His soft, throaty cries heightened Sinbad's agitation.

 

"Please, or I'm going to die, Sin," Ja'far whined then ground his lower body against Sinbad's crotch.

 

"Shit," hissed the supreme boss, his own arousal beneath Ja'far bulging in response.

 

It was wicked when pent-up desire, emotions and longing were involved. If this went on, not only would he end up drinking out of control from Ja'far, but he would also yield to his primal urges and take Ja'far over and over. He could not let his hunger and lust reign free when Ja'far himself was in the same predicament as he.

 

The pale man was feverish, likely delirious. Under normal circumstances, he should be locked in a shower stall and be drenched in ice-cold water. But it was not the effective solution, not even a band-aid fix to this fit either. As he watched Ja'far writhe and plead out of joint, Sinbad relived the agony of going through the phase of transition he knew so well.

 

"Selfish bastard, you're killing me," wheezed the pale man, fingers balling up at Sinbad's creased shirt.

 

"That's my line," groaned Sinbad, battling the friction of their sweat-slicked bodies.

 

With wet cheeks, the pale man sucked back at the grazed skin he had latched onto a while ago. Unable to get his fill, his shoulders shook. He fumbled to palm down between his Sinbad's legs, fingers kneading over the fabric that contained the latter's  erection. Grunting, the supreme boss shut his eyes tight.

 

"I slept and woke up a monster," Ja'far rasped through clenched teeth, rubbing his nose against Sinbad's jaw. "Help me, please. I beg you. I can't stand the fire inside my body. It's your fault. Since I met you-- Just once," he further bargained, eyes big on Sinbad: "One swallow. One. Sin, I don't want to die. Don't let me die."

 

"No, Ja'far. On the contrary, you, fucking little intruder, will be the death of me," snapped Sinbad.

 

Yunan had said this phase would not kill the recipient of the gift, but the experience was not any less excruciating. Sinbad swore under his breath. In a swish, he had Ja'far pinned on his back, wrists secured over his head. Sinbad rested his entire weight against the pale man's middle.

 

He bared his ivory fangs--mouth moist-hot with saliva--then lifted his right forearm. Unblinkingly, he sank his fangs through his muscled flesh. Ja'far heaved, his dark gray eyes wide, lips parted. When blood dripped down to his elbow, Sinbad inclined to press his pierced forearm against Ja'far's mouth.

 

The first taste was the most blinding, this Sinbad was certain of. Ja'far's half-lidded and clouded eyes told him much. Like a starving infant, Ja'far slurped the trickle from his flesh. A few seconds later, he closed his eyes and hummed in bliss. Then he grew bold; he directed his tongue to the punctures and suckled.

 

It should have been appalling: the sight of a person reveling in this inhuman act, yet Ja'far's animal delight on what was passing through his mouth sent thrilling shivers into Sinbad's own body. His ears tickled at hearing that first swallow, then the second, followed by the third.

 

Just one swallow? Sinbad clicked his tongue then puffed.

 

"Ja'far, I'm seriously going to teach you some manners from now on."


End file.
